Simon Says Revenge Ch. 08-12 - Finale

Chapter 8

"What's so funny, babe?" Jamie asked me as we waited for Ana and Oscar to join us.

"Just the thought that not that long ago, I was a betrayed husband with a horrible harridan of a wife who drugged, kidnapped, restrained, and humiliated me. Now ... I have what some might call a harem and such ... couldn't I have just skipped the shrewish cunt of a wife from hell and gone straight to the harem?" I blushed a bit at my own stupidity in trusting, loving, and marrying a royal pain in the ass bitch like Danielle.

"Well, you could have, but that's water under the bridge, and at least this way you now have Michelle, which you might not otherwise. And that sorry twat is in the slammer, where she can't hurt another man. It was only a matter of time. That cunt has borderline personality disorder, antisocial personality disorder, or something like that. No sane, rational person would do what she did. Period. She's a danger to herself and everyone else. She really belongs in a psych ward, if you ask me," Jamie said as she lit up a joint and offered me a hit, "don't worry, I have it on good authority that your boss won't sack you for getting high."

Jamie winked at me on that one, while all of us burst into laughter, including Oscar and Ana, who were in the dining room now.

"That's what someone like Danielle could use. A good bong or joint hit, right? Some proper weed! And if I had to guess, yeah, knowing her as ... intimately as I do, BPD is the most likely culprit. Maybe she can get some real help like she needs ... in prison," I shrugged, "I'll have to wait to have the papers ready, but as soon as I can, I'll skip the process server and serve them to her myself in jail. Assuming that I'm allowed to visit her, that is. Okay, now enough about the ex. She's a depressing topic."

"Depressing, yes, except when you think about the look on her face when she sees either or both of us with you at her trial or sentencing or whatever. That's gonna be satisfying enough. By the way, what harem? Two, three girlfriends max, a lesbian girlfriend to one of your own sweet girlfriends, and a boyfriend. Big deal. I got a harem myself by that standard! It's not like you're suddenly Brigham fucking Young or whatever!" Jamie mocked the idea that I was some kind of sexual deviant just because I now lived with her, Michelle, Ana, Carly, and Oscar, three of whom really needed a place to crash, anyway.

"And there are FAR worse ways to handle this mess, you know. At least you didn't kidnap her and/or her lover, chain them to a fucking stove in a secret cabin out in the fucking boondocks somewhere, starve and abuse Ramone to death, and rape her repeatedly until she had like, fucking Stockholm Syndrome, or some other crazy response. You've let the law handle things. You didn't take the law into your own hands like some fool vigilante.

"My cunt of an ex-friend, Danielle, will get everything that she deserves, such as a long, healthy prison term, while we move onto much better lives. Lucky you that you didn't have to go far for rebound lovers, and we're not gonna act like normal rebound partners. No, it's much more like that Doug Stone song, 'Come in out of the pain.' Have you heard that song?" Michelle now broke her silence after taking her hit of the joint.

"It sounds vaguely familiar to me, but please enlighten me, babe," I asked my love slave.

"My favorite line from it goes, 'come in out of the pain, let me dry your tears. He's been gone for days and I've loved you for years. Lay down in my arms, there ain't no shame. Don't just stand there, girl. Come in out of the pain.' Change a couple of pronouns and a few other words, and that's us. It's definitely you and Jamie. We're not just rebound lovers. We're women who have adored you for the longest time and now that you're ours for the taking, we're grabbing you with both hands, honey," Michelle told me with a very steamy kiss.

"Amen to that. I love that Survivor song. 'The Search is Over.' My favorite part is where the lyricist writes that 'the search is over, love was right before my eyes.' Well, honey, the search is over. Love was always here, just waiting for you to come to its arms. Others won't ever get it, you know. They'll just see 'ultimate male fantasy' and either judge or envy you. They won't see that you tried to love the conventional route, the way that society tells you to try it, blind dates, so-called 'real dates,' monogamy, engagement, wedding, honeymoons, etc.

"What the fuck did that get you? Pain, sadness, misery, treachery, torment, and worse. See why I avoided that mess this whole fucking time? Stupid wedding vow lines like 'forsaking all others,' ugh, some folks even feeling obliged to be faithful when their partner has already breached said vows, said contract, at which point they're arguably absolved from any such obligations or duties if you ask me. People so convinced that sex is a poison pill for a new relationship, or whatever, that they avoid it until they're already neck deep in one.

"So, what does that get you? Being celibate while waiting for a new Ms. Right while your ex runs around and fucks everything that moves, gets rewarded in her life with pleasure for not having such hang-ups. I'm telling you, monogamy, serial or otherwise, is a fucking rip-off! Don't wait until you've found a new Ms. Right. Your body still has needs, primal urges, that don't stop or lessen just because some stupid cunt of a wife does you wrong, stomps on your heart, and spits on your love. She betrayed you, not vice versa. If anyone suffers, it should be her, not you.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I don't sound like a fucking Hallmark movie, do I? Or a story by one of the online romantics, either. They're okay, if a bit depressing at times. Dude has to stick to Rosie Redpalm and her five daughters while the wife moves on easily with her new boyfriend, just because he still has some stupid notion that he is bound to the wedding vows because he ain't divorced yet. Um, dude, you're such a fucking buzzkill ... When she cheated, you were absolved from said fucking vows and any need to be faithful at all!

"So, the damn heifer of an ex is getting her ashes hauled daily while the unlucky victim of her betrayal is forced to resort to giving himself handjobs and sitting around depressed or drunk or whatever, because of some vows he took to a false god who died two thousand years ago? As if! Maybe it's just the fucking tomboy in me, but I call bullshit on that crap!

"And now, because your dumbass ex was especially vicious, she gets to rot in jail like her idiot loverboy while you stick it to her the way that she normally would have to you, regardless of who cheated. The same courts that would have shafted you will shaft her instead, because if there's anyone who gets screwed over more than ex-husbands, it's convicted felons. Welcome to the good ol' US of A, right? Sorry, I'll get off my soapbox now," Jamie laughed a little at her own tirade there.

"Hey, I enjoyed and totally agreed with that entire fucking rant, if you ask me," I chuckled while making out with her and Michelle in turns.

"Are we ready for breakfast? I picked it up this morning and I've kept it warming in the oven this whole time so that it didn't go cold. I'm a decent cook, but I wanted to treat you guys to my own rich girl version of something very special ... and I didn't want to take time this morning, of all mornings, away from fucking this dear man here halfway into the grave. Well, that and I planned to get a little stoned, too. I hope that you'll forgive me my flaws," Jamie announced as she rose and took the delivered croissants from a local bakery, complete with bacon, cheese, and eggs on them.

She also poured us some papaya juice and some coffee as well. The croissants were fucking delicious, too, a nice, buttery flavor included in the bread itself, eggs scrambled just right, which was hard to accomplish with takeout breakfast, the cheese just the right level of gooey, cheesy goodness, and the bacon sizzling in such a way that you could hear it. Something told me that this was to give us all the calories that we would need for one helluva day.

That was when I got a call from Mr. Natansky.

"Sorry, we've had to rush that restraining order, Mr. Avanti. Your wife got out on bail. I don't know who posted the bond, of course. This does mean that you can't serve her the papers yourself. It would be too dangerous, of course, with her no longer incarcerated. We'll have to use a process server, who will cost some money. We'll have to find her, anyway. At least in jail we knew where she was.

"Yes, you will have that added to your legal bills. Mind you, it appears that someone else is paying your expenses, which is very generous of them. That someone must really like you ... and have deep pockets, of course. Of course, your wife's legal troubles continue, and this restraining order will only compound them.

"The very fact that you slapped her with one will only reinforce to any jury that you are now legitimately scared of her due to recent behavior. It will drive home the severity of her crime, her offense, to anyone tempted to believe that men couldn't be abused. Believe me, if she approaches you now, she'll be arrested so fast that her head will spin. The petition for divorce is ready, too, so it will be served to her along with the restraining order, Mr. Avanti. It looks like you were wise not to go for the annulment, after all. Now we can combine the processes and save money on it," Mr. Natansky informed me now.

"Thank you, Mr. Natansky. I appreciate your help, even if it's for billable hours and fees. You've been a real help, trust me. Anything else?" I asked him while turning the phone on speaker.

"Just that you could always go for a civil case if the criminal one falls through. You know, for distress, emotional and otherwise, seeking damages from her. I'm not sure that she has much to lose from that, though. She doesn't appear to be as rich as she presents herself.

"She likely has made a habit of living off wealthy men instead of her own means, which would explain the discrepancy. Of course, her employment record is sketchy at best and she might well have lost her current job, too. Ironically as a paralegal," Mr. Natansky laughed as he hung up now.

"Well, that was weird enough by three halves. I wonder who the fuck posted my wife's bond? Probably one of her other girlfriends, like Samantha or Hilary or Andrea, right? Andrea never did like me, did she? I don't think that any of them liked me that much, but Andrea always had a piss-poor way of hiding the fact.

"Or maybe it was Robin or Lisa. Or her mother, that evil cunt. Like mother, like daughter," I grimaced a bit, having looked forward to serving her the divorce papers while she sat across the glass from me in an orange jumpsuit or something like that.

"Oh, it was Betsy, count on that. Danielle got her evil, twisted nature honestly from her. I wish that I had warned you away when I met her, but I was blinded by my love for her ... and so were you. Would you have believed her friend, honestly? I think not. Plus, Danielle would have learned about it and become furious with me. The idea that one of her friends would think that ill of her wouldn't sit well with her," Michelle observed while sitting on my lap.

She was handcuffed, with my food and hers on the same plate so that I could feed her.

"I wonder what took so long, then," Jamie inquired.

"Probably trying to launder the money just right so that some other poor schmuck would lose out if Danielle skips her bail and Betsy won't lose her shirt. I'm just glad that Mike left her when he did. It took him a massive coronary to see that she was killing him with stress. It strained the father-daughter relationship, though. It's never been the same.

"For whatever reason, Danielle sided with her mother in the divorce. If you'll recall, he didn't even have an invitation to the wedding until you insisted upon it and even then, he wasn't allowed to give her away. Her stepfather got to do it instead. Talk about your humiliations!

"Did she even explain that one to you? Her mother controls the trust fund, though, and so Danielle will only get it when she turns thirty or gives Betsy a granddaughter. Not a grandson. Not either sex. A granddaughter. Don't ask me why. It never made sense to me, either. Until then, she's a poor relation living on her mother's charity," Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I had to stop Betsy from putting the word 'obey' in MY vows! No fucking thanks! Danielle had to hurry to do major damage control there! No real explanation that makes any sense at all in my book. That family is just fucking warped and weird, like some kind of ongoing tradition of bitchy, bossy wives and meek, docile husbands.

"I should have seen it coming, but I honestly thought that Danielle was just not the same way herself. Evidently, I was wrong about her, wasn't I?" I scoffed at that weird-ass bunch of in-laws, including the stepfather-in-law and his constant kowtowing to Betsy.

"Yeah, well, in MY vows ... I want to slip in the words, 'to do whatever Simon says,' if you don't mind, babe. What? I want it clear that, as much as I might Top from the bottom at times and I might be your boss at work, you, honey, are my husband and the boss of me in bed ... and at home. As much stress as I deal with at work ... do you really think that I want to rule the roost? Not hardly, babe," Jamie assured me with a steamy kiss that Michelle eagerly joined to make it a three-way kiss.

I heard a click and realized that Oscar just took a picture of the three-way kiss with his phone camera. He grinned before he planted a kiss on me, too, and I proudly posed for that picture with him. Then I posed for a kissing pic with Ana as well, with her tongue halfway down my throat. Then Michelle and Carly posed in a sexy Sapphic kiss as well.

"That reminds me. I need to update my relationship status," I beamed as I posted some of the pictures and changed my status from married to "separated."

That was when I got a request from Jamie's account about an "open relationship." I winked at her and quickly confirmed it, making my "separated" status very short-lived indeed. Now, if that didn't ruffle some feathers, I didn't know what would. Danielle was likely to be spitting mad by now.

Then I posted a status, "Totally done with the evil cunt wife. She can eat my ass if she wishes, though. Before I wipe it. After the stunt that she pulled, which I can't discuss in detail, she can go fuck herself, because she'll never get to fuck me again. The honeymoon is SO fucking over!"

My social media blew up a bit after that ... and I got the phone call that I wanted, one that might well put Danielle right back in jail. That was kinda the point ... to provoke her into losing her temper again and proving just how sick and twisted she was.

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! Did you have to spill our whole dirty mess out in public? And what's this trash about being separated ... and an 'open relationship' with your motherfucking boss! How long have you two been screwing around, before the incident, I'll bet, and now that I've snapped and done one awful mistake, you're using it to crucify me?

"How dare you! I'm gonna find your sorry ass and make them see what an actual crime is. I'll cut off your cock and balls, feed them to you, and then tie you up to a chair, bleeding from your stump while Ramone knocks me up! Then I'll leave you to die!

"Oh, yes, Ramone's out of jail, too. Mom posted his bond as well! Say your prayers and prepare to meet your Maker, because I'll be a widow and marry your cousin, and then I'll piss and shit on your grave!" Danielle ranted and screamed at me over my voicemail.

I quickly called back and said two words.

"Goodbye, dear."

The exact same two words that Danielle told me just before she left me still in bonds.

Oh, yes ... revenge would be sweet and it would be on my terms. Because I was Simon, and whatever Simon said was supposed to be how it went, right? I hoped that Danielle enjoyed jail, because she was on her way back there, either for the death threat or for violating the restraining order sure to follow the death threat. Whether or not she went to prison, that was another matter, but her constantly landing in jail would be rough on both her financial and her romantic future, wouldn't it?

It couldn't happen to a nicer girl, either, right?

Chapter 9

Three hours later...

While at Mr. Natansky's office to play him the voicemail in case he needed it, he got a phone call that was very noteworthy.

"Are you sure? Okay, well, that makes our task a bit easier, in fact. She's been booked, printed, all of that jazz, eh? That must have been one helluva mess, too. She did what to him? Jesus fucking Christ! Well, he turned on her and her mother bailed him out without knowing it, so I suppose that there's no honor among kidnappers, either, as well as thieves. Very well, then. I don't suppose that she'll get bail for murder one, will she? Yeah, I thought not. Thanks for the tip," Yuri Natansky smiled rather wickedly, but understandably as he hung up.

"That was my ... process server, Jason S. House. He had to serve the papers on Danielle in jail, because she brutally slashed and murdered Ramone with a butcher knife. I mean, she cut him up good, too. Evidently, after her mother bailed both of them out, Danielle learned that Ramone had snitched on her to the cops. She lost her temper and cut him up good! Suffice it to say, the divorce, restraining order, and even the assault case are the least of her problems now," Mr. Natansky shrugged now, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for either of them and not bothering to feign it, either.

Then again, neither did I. I couldn't fake even a second of empathy or sympathy for either of them. I chuckled as I thought of the likely denial of bail, too. Yeah, Danielle was gonna have a lot more more problems, and I wasn't done twisting the knife. After all, my decision to press charges was only part of my revenge. My urge for Ramone to turn against her helped hurt her ... and destroy him as well. My decision to tip off the cops landed him in jail where they could turn him, in fact.

It might not be as satisfying in one sense to use the authorities and the law to stick it to my wife. In another sense, however, it was all quite legal, I couldn't be punished for it, there would be real consequences, lasting ones for Danielle, she would be publicly humiliated and unable to ever use her inheritance now, her sex life would consist of cellmates and maybe guards, and best of all, she would lose her freedom ... for good!

That was the real icing on the cake for me, what I wanted most of all. I wanted Danielle caged for the rest of her days, to never see the outside of a prison cell. I wanted her to spend the rest of her life rotting away behind bars. I wanted her to know the captivity that she forced upon me ... on steroids. I never wanted her to have her freedom ever again. She was a predator, a wild animal? Okay, then, put her in the fucking cage!

"Of course, I want the divorce pushed through in time to testify against her in court. Both times. I want to nail her ass to the wall. She wants to complain about being crucified? I'll fucking SHOW her how crucified feels! The money is far less of an object to me than the satisfaction of seeing her in an orange jumpsuit in handcuffs, led away into the custody of the state. I never want that bitch to breathe the free air again! The next time that she leaves prison, I want it to be in a body bag or a fucking coffin!" I ranted, my hatred for that cunt showing through for real now.

I was past any pity, for myself or anyone else right now. I hated Danielle. Fuck loving her still! I wanted the bitch to suffer and suffer she would now. I took no small satisfaction in thinking that I might have helped push her past the point, making her snap when she learned how Ramone betrayed her. I wanted nothing for my estranged wife but misery, pain, loneliness, and suffering for the rest of her life.