Security Clearance

"Uh, well, she was here but went to pick up your children from school," Nancy replied, beginning to regain her composure.

I looked at the clock. It was 3:28, so she probably was picking them up right then.

"Have you eaten recently?" Dr. Petra asked, an ashen look still on her face.

"Not since about eight this morning," I replied.

"Since your regurgitation was obviously emotional and not from your concussion, I strongly suggest that you get something in your stomach. Especially before your wife returns with the children," she said.

"You don't think that I'll simply barf it up again when I see her?" I asked.

"No...I don't," Dr. Petra responded, "as long as it is something innocuous. Nurse Jenkins, could you please have the kitchen rush a bowl of oatmeal up here?"

"With cinnamon and raisins, no brown sugar," I said turning to Nancy and trying to be as pleasant as possible.

The oatmeal was delivered within five minutes. I quickly finished the bowl, and felt a little better by the time that Nancy came back into my room and said "You have visitors."

In rushed my three sweethearts, each one trying to be the first to get to me. "Darlings, don't touch Daddy's head or neck," I giggled as I tried to hold all three of them in my two arms. They were all talking at the same time, each more animated than the other. Despite my physical state and emotional condition I had to chuckle; a true laugh would probably hurt, but a good chuckle was definitely called for.

I hardly noticed Allison I was so busy talking with the children. It was clear that Amber had been crying, but now that she saw I wasn't at death's door was clearly perking up, and the other two were all smiles. Allison stood at the door with a bemused look on her face.

As I chatted with the children, I avoided discussion of my injury as best that I could and instead directed the conversation to their activities yesterday, while I was out of town, and today. Allison interjected a few times with questions or comments, but I simply ignored her, and never made eye contact with her. After about fifteen minutes of gaiety I noticed Nancy say something to Allison. A minute later Allison announced "Children. Daddy is still hurting and has to get better, so we need to leave. Kiss his hands goodbye, and we'll visit him tomorrow again."

The kids slobbered over my hands and as they left waved goodbye. Amber was clearly in a better place than when she arrived, and Jerry seemed fine, but now -- getting a good look at me in my hospital bed from a distance -- Whitney was starting to tear up, and turned her head abruptly as she left, obviously trying to disguise her tears.

After the children left Allison called out to them "Meet Mommy in the elevator lobby. I'm going to talk to Daddy a few minutes."

Allison turned and approached me. I hadn't had time to fully plan what my reaction was going to be, and obviously I did not have it in my power at the present time to effect the scenarios that I had already thought of. Therefore I just closed my eyes and listened.

"Brian, I, uh... I'm so sorry that you had to see me like that. I never wanted you to find out. I'm sorry I'm, uh, well, not the wife you have the right to expect me to be. I'm really hoping that when you get better we can talk this out," she told me, with a hint of both moaning and sobbing in her voice, though clearly no real crying. When she got absolutely no response from me she said "Maybe you'll feel like talking tomorrow. If you do, just call me."

Her last statement was telling in itself. She obviously had no interest in coming to see me in the hospital -- I would have to solicit her and have a "talk" with her, otherwise she wasn't showing up.

Dr. Petra came in again about twenty minutes after Allison left. After another examination she said "You don't look too distraught after a talk with your wife."

"I didn't talk with my wife," I deadpanned. "However, although I still have a deep sadness for the loss of my previous life, I'm quite sure that I will be able to transform my emotion into action. I won't be throwing up again."

"That's good," she said with a smile.

"Doctor, how long do you think I have to stay here?"

"I insist that you stay one more night, after tonight, but after that if your checkup is good you can leave. But you have to restrict your activities for at least a week, and definitely no going into your office for at least three or four days. I insist!" she replied, in as firm of a voice as a five foot tall female can muster.

"I promise," I chuckled, then reached out and grabbed her hand. "That is I promise on the condition that you do NOT tell my wife that you will release me in the morning on Friday. Obviously I can't ask you to lie to her, but if she even cares enough to ask can you imply that I'll have to stay until Saturday?"

"I think I can do that," Dr. Petra laughed, "as long as I don't have to flat out lie in response to a direct question. I'll tell Nurse Jenkins the same thing."

I ate a full dinner, called my parents -- who for apparently obvious reasons Allison had not contacted -- called my assistant at his house, and asked for a legal pad and pen. That night I was feeling too out-of-it to write up the things I had to do, but I would definitely be ready to start planning my course of action the next morning.

Allison showed up with the kids again about 3:50 on Thursday afternoon. As I had predicted, she didn't bother to come and see me earlier in the day, and I sure wasn't going to call her, although Nancy said she did call the nursing station once to inquire about my well-being.

By the time that the kids got there on Thursday I felt much better. That wasn't just because I was healing, but because I had a completely productive day. I had several people from my office come to see me, as well as my attorney, Gail, who had done my pre-nup, and my parents had lunch with me. Nothing I did had anything to do with my research in proximity sensors, however. It all had to do with planning the rest of my life outside of work.

After a wonderful half-hour with the kids, as I had instructed Nancy earlier in the day, she came in and said that I needed my rest. Allison did the same thing as the first day, but this time I didn't close my eyes when she talked to me.

"Darling, you never called today to have me come and talk about our situation," she said in a soft voice.

"I guess I wasn't important enough for you to see if I was alive or dead unless I called, huh?" I shot back, trying to minimize the sarcasm in my comment, but probably not succeeding.

"That's not fair, darling," she softly replied. "I didn't want to bother you if you didn't want to talk."

"I'll probably want to talk this weekend -- darrrlllinng" I said in a snarky voice, "after they release me."

"Brian, again, I'm so sorry. I really hope that we can move past this," she mumbled. Then she held my hand and kissed it. I gave no reaction whatsoever. "Bye," she demurely said as she gave a small wave when exiting.

Of course it was not lost on me that she never said that she loved me, or that she was going to end her affair with Roger Mayberry, and the only indication of real sorrow that I could sense was that she got caught. The rest of the 10% of my plan that I hadn't perfected yet would be easy to come up with now.

Just before visiting hours were up, Allison's father and mother came to see me. I was a little surprised until they subtly revealed the reason for their visit. Apparently Allison didn't think that it would play too well if she was the one to threaten me with loss of the children if we divorced, so she had her parents do it.

"Allison has told us about her big mistake," her mother said while holding my hand.

"Oh, really -- what's that?" I sarcastically asked.

After a long pause her mother replied, "You know it very well; it's what precipitated your accident. I just hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive her, Brian. You're such a good person and loving father, and I know that it would destroy you to not be with your kids every day."

"You're certainly right about that, Ruth," I said in a somber voice. Being somber was just an act. The most important thing in my plan was to get sole custody of the kids.

After a few more minutes of perfunctory conversation after Allison's parents had delivered the message that I was certain that their daughter required them to deliver, they left.

Any doubt about what I was to do was gone.

Friday morning Dr. Petra gave me another exam and then signed my release papers. "Remember, take it easy for at least a week," she said.

"Scout's honor," I said, giving my approximation of the Boy Scout salute; never having been a Boy Scout I don't know how close I came, but at least she laughed.

I thanked Nancy and offered her a $500 cash tip which she was required to refuse; so I gave her a cautious hug instead, and left with my assistant, Jack, by 10:00 a.m.

Getting some revenge on Roger Mayberry would be very easy -- I could just have him fired. But that wouldn't be revenge enough for me. What I needed to do was to ruin his career. If he just got another job in a related field, at almost the same salary, what kind of punishment would that be? What I needed to do was make sure that he lost his security clearance. That would make it impossible for him to get a job with anywhere near the compensation or prestige that he presently enjoyed.

After consultation with Gail and a divorce specialist that she recommended, and after obtaining Roger's bank account information from Payroll since his paychecks were direct deposited, the next thing that I had to do was to see Jezebel. Why her? She would help me ensure that I got sole custody of my kids!

My assistant drove me to Jezebel's office, but I had him wait in the car. Even though Jack would be read completely into all my plans, I needed to talk to Jezebel alone. I had called ahead, but Jezebel still acted surprised and excited to see me.

"Whoa there, Jezebel," I laughed as she hustled her big beautiful body toward me. "I have a concussion, and I can't give you the big hug that I'd like. Can we just kiss each other's hands?"

"You bastard," she giggled, "you probably got the concussion just so that I couldn't maul you." We exchanged hand kisses, a very unsatisfactory greeting, but it would have to do.

Jezebel looked good. She was dressed very stylishly, but professionally, and looked like she hadn't put on a pound since she was eighteen; although her tits looked even bigger than I remembered. They probably just seemed bigger because I hadn't seen her in the last ten years and didn't remember how big that they were. There was a little gray in her hair, but it actually softened her features; yeah, she was still the consummate sexy woman.

"Come into my office," she demanded, grabbing my arm.

After expressing my joy at seeing Jezebel again, I got right to the point. "I need your help, Jezebel," I said, my sadness rearing its ugly head again.

"Anything, Brian," she said, holding my hand. "You have no idea how much I want to help you, no matter what it is. You helped me achieve my dream, so as long as I don't have to kill someone, I'm all in!"

That comment, and her big smile while delivering it, did more to lift my sadness than I thought possible. "OK, you asked for it," I chuckled.

I didn't leave out any detail in what had happened and the aspect of my reaction that I needed her help with. This included telling her how important my kids were to me, and I even showed her photos of them. When she heard that my middle child's name was Whitney she stopped cold.

"You named her Whitney?" she gasped.

I knew what she was thinking, and there was absolutely no reason -- in view of the present circumstances -- why I shouldn't guild the lily. "Yes, named after my favorite person from my pre-marriage days," I replied with a big smile.

She got choked up, started crying, and in between sobs moaned, "You bastard, the only two times I've cried in the last ten years are because of you!"

I smiled, squeezed her hand; "Hey, tears of joy are great; I could use some now."

"How can I help deliver them?" she asked, wiping away her tears.

"I need you to put porn featuring my wife on your website, and make payments to her bank account for them!"

Once she got over the initial shock, we discussed the situation fully. She had plenty of good suggestions, and one spectacular one. "You have to be sure that this is never traced to you, and someone might find out that you and I had a previous 'association,'" she said.

"Is that what you call it, an 'association?'" I laughed.

"Shut-up," she giggled, "It's my turn to tutor you. I have a friend that can do this, on a pay porn website even more popular than mine, no questions asked. All you have to do is funnel cash to him that he'll in turn deposit it in your wife's bank account. Let me call him right now."

In a four minute phone conversation with her friend Jezebel had it all arranged. She told me what format the porn videos should be in and that whatever cash I gave her she would give her friend, and the same amount of money would be deposited in Allison's account. "Also, my friend will need your wife's signature on a contract that includes a release-- can you trick her into that, or forge it properly?"

"I can," I replied.

"I'll email it to you today," she replied.

"Wait until tomorrow. I'll set up a new email account at the library specifically for that purpose, and email you with it once she signs," I grinned.

I was on a natural high as I was getting ready to leave Jezebel's office. I risked pain by giving her a gentle kiss on the lips when I left. I was pleased to see that my concussion had not stifled my cock's reaction as I got a legitimate stiffy just from one tender kiss on the lips with Jezebel.

Fortunately, shortly after we got married my wife had insisted on a credit card just in her name, and also a bank account only in her name. I never bothered to check them before, but I would now. I would have no problem getting the numbers from documents that she left lying around in the den at home.

I had a lot going for me in effecting my revenge. Bank account numbers from both Roger and Allison, Allison's credit card number, enough of my own money to finance anything that I wanted, and Jezebel's help. Also, my assistant, Jack, was completely loyal and I could rely on him to do anything.

I need to say something about Jack; he is my assistant, not my secretary. He is my highest paid employee, aside from the CEOs and CFOs of my companies. Although he has an engineering degree and is great at crunching numbers and making technical improvements to my hair-brained schemes, he also is willing to do anything to help. That's why he picked me up from the hospital and waited for me at Jezebel's. One other thing -- he was a Division I football player in college and started at middle linebacker his senior year. He's six feet two and 245 pounds of almost pure muscle. He has trouble getting suit jackets that he doesn't rip the arms out of.

Things related to my revenge could go wrong, but I had planned carefully and had to be optimistic.

After Jack dropped me off at my car at my house -- I didn't go inside to see if Allison was home -- I ate lunch, and then called Allison's cell.

"Hello, darling; I'm so glad you called. Would you like me to come visit you?" was her sing-song greeting since my cell number was obviously displayed on her caller I. D."

"That won't be necessary," I said without any warmth whatsoever in my voice. "I got released early and I'll go pick up the kids then take them for milkshakes. We'll be home about 5:30. "

"Oh, dear, I must make a nice homecoming dinner for you," she gushed, trying hard to sound upbeat. "Now don't spoil their appetites..."

I cut her off. "Thanks for the parenting advice," I sarcastically replied. "See you at 5:30."

The kids were excited to see me, inquired about my health, and were all bubbly about their activities. They were even more thrilled when I told them we were going to get milkshakes at the local malt shop, something that they all loved.

After all four of us were well into our shakes I opened up to them.

"Kids, I want you to know that some things are going to change in the future, and that none of it is your fault," I started out in a low key, matter-of-face manner. That didn't fool Amber one bit. Without hesitation she more than anticipated what I had to say -- she extrapolated from it.

"If you and Mom get divorced I'm living with you," she blurted out.

"Are you guys getting divorced?" Whitney asked.

"Now let's not jump the gun, here," I said, trying to reassure them -- especially Whitney who had suddenly gotten a hang-dog look. "Mom and I are having some issues, and I don't know how it's going to come out. However, one thing that I want you to know is that no matter what we both love you with all our hearts and that you three beautiful creatures are not the cause -- in any way -- of our issues."

Amber again shocked the socks off of me. "You love us with all your heart, but does Mom have one?"

"Mommy loves us," Jerry piped up.

"Don't be so sure, squirt," Amber shot back.

Trying to be as diplomatic as possible I put a hand over one of Amber's. "Honey, I know that Mom loves all of you completely. Sometimes she just doesn't know how to show it. Let's not think ill of her, shall we, and let's hope that things work out."

Whitney was quietly sniffling, but Jerry and Amber seemed to snap out of it completely, especially when Jerry asked, with eight-year-old earnestness, "Are you coming to my Little League came at noon tomorrow, Dad. It's against the Ravens, and I'm gonna pitch."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, son," I chuckled. "What events do you girls have Saturday?" I asked in the most cheerful voice possible, "I lost three days with my hospital stay and never got my normal Thursday update."

By the time that we got home about 5:20 all three kids seemed sanguine. I made sure that at least one child was between Allison and me at all times during Allison's greeting since I didn't want any body contact with her.

After the kids went to bed that night, I went into the guest room.

"Don't you want to talk?" Allison asked.

"I've got a splitting headache from my concussion, and I just need to take my pain pills and get some sleep. It will probably be fitful and I don't want to disturb you," I replied, gulping down two Tylenol that I passed off as prescription pain pills and then closing the door.

"I'm available to talk anytime," Allison chimed as the guest room door shut on her.

I was able to avoid any real discussion or intimacy with Allison both Saturday and Sunday without much difficulty, and was able to start implementing my plan.

The first activities were easy. Using Allison's credit card, on Saturday morning I ordered two small high tech video cameras and motion detectors for express delivery to the house on Monday. At the library I printed out the porn contract that Jezebel had emailed me to the account I had set up for that purpose then immediately deleted it. I also printed out new beneficiary and health insurance forms from my company's database, attached the porn contract as the second to last item in the stack, and put tabs where Allison was supposed to sign them all.

I knew that Allison would be in an accommodating mood on the weekend, but that it wouldn't last too long. I presented her with the documents on Sunday, told her that they were health, disability, and life insurance forms for work that just needed to be updated and that she and the children were co-beneficiaries of all of my insurance. I left the documents with her, telling her to read them at her leisure.