Something Fishy — Shock and Awe

This story is based directly on a submission by taylorsam entitled "Something Fishy". The author has given me permission to write an alternative version of his story. I liked the premise of "Something Fishy" very much but had different ideas about how the protagonist should have handled the situation. For that reason, I have written this alternate version — often incorporating passages taken directly from taylorsam's original story. I have changed the names of the lead characters but maintained the name of the antagonist. For those that know me, they know I like conflict and dialogue, bigger-than-life characters, bold men, lusty women and dastardly villains.

If you would like to make comments, please do. I read them all and use them -- even the scathing critiques - to improve my writing

Special thanks to the best editor in Literotica, BlackRandl1958.

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Characters

Blake Ramsey: Aero/Astro engineer working for the space division of large aerospace company

Tracey Ramsey: Blake's wife and PA for senior partner of Stanley Cross & Associates

Tyler, Beth & Emily: Blake & Tracey's Children

The Colonel: Blakes neighbor across the street, a retired Marine colonel

Stanley Cross: Ruthless trial lawyer and senior partner for his long-established law firm

Max Angel: Driver and bodyguard for Stanley Cross

"Jac" Carter: Blake Ramsey's uncle and retired Navy JAG officer

Sam Wilton: Public Defender

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It has been said a million times by a million completely shocked husbands, "My life was perfect until that one day it wasn't." Like them, I thought my life was perfect until one day it wasn't."

I'm Blake Ramsey. At age 31, I was a happy and content man. At this stage of life, everything was going well. I had a great job working on space projects for an upstart aerospace division of a large aerospace company called Space Conquest, and I was making good money. We were working on a NASA contract to design the next generation manned spacecraft after the Space-X Dragon and the Boeing Starliner. It was going to be a winged space vehicle that landed like an airplane. Unlike the Space Shuttle, it would be for passengers only—eight of them. It looks a little like the Air Force X-37B, only bigger and with a canopy. Like the X-37B, it would land entirely under automatic control, no pilot input whatsoever.

My part of the design involved the escape system. In the event of a mishap, each crewman would eject in their own pressurized capsule. Egress could be initiated during any phase of flight: Launch and ascent, and at any time during reentry. It was a space engineer's dream job.

I had a beautiful wife of seven years, named Tracey, and three beautiful children; a boy, seven, named Tyler, and twin girls, age six, named Beth and Emily. My wife and children were the center of my life and I went out of my way to make certain that my job did not interfere with my time with my family.

My parents were alive and in good health and so were Tracey's. Both sets of parents lived within an hour's drive and doted on their grandchildren when they could. Also, Tracey's married sister Lucy lived close by. Tracey and I had a four-bedroom home in an upper-middle class neighborhood with great neighbors. Tyler had his own room, while the twins shared a room. We kept the fourth bedroom for guests. Eventually, each girl would need their own bedroom. When that time came, we would finish the basement into an in-law suite.

I met my lovely wife Tracey during my post graduate year of college. Between my undergraduate degree and my Master's degree, I served four years in the Marine Corps in order to qualify for the veteran educational benefits. She was a junior and we quickly fell in love. We married a month after her graduation. I graduated with an aerospace engineering degree and found a great job. When Tracey graduated from school, she went to work for a law firm as a legal assistant.

Tracey quit her job two years later when she gave birth to our son, Tyler. Only one year later, Tracey gave birth to our twin daughters. Our life was perfect until Beth and Emily went to Kindergarten. With all the kids in school, Tracey went back to work at the law firm.

I should have seen it coming, but was blinded by my belief in my wife's total fidelity. I thought she was in love with me as much as I was in love with her. Looking back, all the signs were staring me in the face. Tracey started dressing more provocatively. Our sex life went from frequent to much less frequent. Tracey was working more hours, and dismissive when I questioned her about her excessive time at work. When I confronted her about the lack of quality time with both me and our children, she told me that she was working for the senior partner. She would tell me, "It was a great opportunity for her career and would help us financially in our future."

On several occasions before "the day," I met her boss, Stanley Cross, at a couple of social events and the company Christmas party. He was the senior partner who started the law firm that bore his name, Stanley Cross and Associates, Attorneys at Law. To me, he was an asshole. He was cocky and dismissive towards me. I instantly distrusted him. The few times that I dropped into Tracey's office to take her to lunch, Cross seemed possessive of her and only reluctantly let her out of the office. I watched for any romantic interaction between Tracey and her boss. If there was any, I didn't note it at the time.

The shit hit the fan just as the twins were finishing up their kindergarten year. After their last day of school, Tyler, Beth and Emily were going to spend the weekend with my parents. I was looking forward to a nice weekend with Tracey to try to rekindle our relationship and love life.

I picked up the kids from school and dropped them off at my parent's home before I returned home for what I planned was to be a nice dinner and movie alone with Tracey. As I walked into the kitchen, Tracey was coming down the stairs. She was dressed in a short black cocktail dress with a low neckline emphasizing her C+ rack. She wore black CFM high heels. Her hair was down around her shoulders, curled to perfection. She had her makeup on for a night on the town. She looked extremely sexy.

"Wow, Babe, you look hot. If you would have told me we were going out, I would have rushed home. Give me a few minutes to wash up and change my clothes, and I will be ready to roll. Where are we going?"

Tracey got a smirk on her face that was not a good look for her. "We (she emphasized "We") are not going anywhere. However, I am (she emphasized, "am") going out, but just not with you."

I was shocked. "What, what are you saying?"

"I have a date with my boss, Stanley Cross, and this is just the start. We are going to have new rules starting today. Stan is coming to pick me up for a night on the town. I won't be home tonight or Saturday night. We have a room, a suite, downtown. I'll be back sometime Sunday afternoon."

"What the fuck are you saying?" I yelled.

"You need to calm down and accept this. This is the way it is going to be. I'm going out and will be home Sunday afternoon."

"Bullshit! If you think I'm going to stand for this, you're crazy. You walk out that door, don't plan on coming back."

"No, Blake, I will be coming home to our home. We are going to remain man and wife and I will still live here, as will you. You need to understand that I still love you, but I need a little more. If you insist on making this difficult, it will be you who will not live here anymore. It would be a shame for our children's father to be penniless and in jail.

"Now, you need to sit down with me and let me tell you about the changes that have been made that you're going to have to adjust to. I want to do this the easy way, before Stan gets here in about thirty minutes. If he has to explain things to you, you will like it even less."

I answered, "If the Asshole is going to be here in thirty minutes, he is going to get his ass kicked in thirty-one minutes."

"You don't want to do that, Blake," Tracey answered confidently, "for two reasons. First, you really do have to listen to what he has to say about what he can do to you if you don't cooperate and, second, he will have Max with him. Max is his driver and bodyguard. He is big and mean, and doesn't have a sense of humor. You touch Stan and you will end up in the hospital."

I suddenly had a feeling I hadn't had since I was a Marine in the Mideast. I didn't identify it at first, but then it came to me: I'm being ambushed. I have my wife on one side and soon I will have Stanley Cross on the other. I will be in their crossfire. They seem to have the advantage of pre-planning and surprise, and I'm at a loss as to how to defend myself.

I pushed past Tracey and started up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Tracey demanded. "We have to talk."

"I'm going to wash my face and change my clothes. I will be down in five minutes."

As a Marine in the Middle East, I had been ambushed three times.

I had made several rules about being ambushed. One, try to see it before you get trapped. In the case of Tracey and Stanley Cross. I didn't see it coming. The second rule, take cover immediately. That was what I was doing by exiting the front room for the temporary safety of my bedroom. The third rule was, come up with a plan to extricate yourself and your men.

I needed a plan.

I made one.

First, I changed from my suit into casual pants and a pullover sport shirt with a breast pocket. Then, I set my iPhone up to record and slipped it into my breast pocket.

Next, I went to my walk-in closet and kneeled down to where my shoes were sitting on top of an old footlocker. Stenciled on the top was, "Captain B. C. Ramsey; USMC." I swept all the shoes from the top of the foot locker and reached behind it for a key I had taped to the back.

I opened the footlocker, and immediately, ten years of memories came flooding back to me as I saw my old uniforms. A passing thought reminded me that I knew I could still fit comfortably into all my uniforms even after putting them away ten years before.

Below the uniforms, were several expandable filing folders, and under them, a box containing my medals—awards for two tours of combat duty in the Mideast. I opened the box briefly, but I was there for something else. Under the box of medals was the prize I was looking for: Betsy, my Marine Corps Beretta 9mm sidearm. It was in a cloth-lined plastic pouch along with two clips of 9 bullets each. Officially, I was not allowed to keep my pistol, but a fluke in the quartermaster system as I was being discharged allowed me to do so. This particular gun had special meaning to me. It saved my life multiple times in combat.

As I loaded a clip into the handle, I heard Tracey at the bottom of the stairs, "Get your ass down here now, Blake, or you'll be sorry."

I answered with, "I'll be right down. Get a beer out for me, will you?"

I stood up and cycled the slide to put a shell in the chamber. Since the Beretta is a double-action semi-automatic pistol, all I had to do was pull the trigger to fire. I put my gun inside my belt in the middle of my back and pulled my knit shirt over it. Unless you were looking for it, it would go unnoticed.

As I started out of the bedroom, I pulled my cell phone out of my shirt pocket, started it on record, then placed it back in my pocket with the camera lens just showing over the edge of the pocket.

I wanted to know exactly what was on Tracey's mind and what plans she and the asshole had for me. I decided to adopt some of the interrogation techniques I had learned in the Marine Corps as part of my training. I was going to be as non-confrontational as possible and encourage her to talk, to explain how she perceived the situation.

When I reached the living room, I found Tracey sitting at the dining room table with a glass of white wine in front of her and a cold beer at a place for me.

"It's about time," she admonished me. "We have to get some things out of the way before Stan gets here."

"It seems like you have things to say, Tracey," I said. "Tell me about this new reality that I am supposed to embrace."

"First of all, I want you to remember that I love you more than anything in the world and I have a family with you and I want to grow old and die in your arms. I really don't want to hurt your feelings, Honey," she started before I interrupted.

"No more terms of endearment, Tracey. I'm not Honey or Dear or Sweetheart. Just call me Blake and I will call you Tracey."

Tracey appeared miffed at my lack of affection, but she continued. "Again, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but circumstances have changed as of this evening. And you have to accept the changes or else.

"You should know that Stan and I have become very close since he made me his personal assistant. Yes, I mean sex. We have been having an affair for almost seven months now. He began flirting with me soon after I returned to work as a secretary. Then, we developed the routine of having coffee together during breaks. When he made me his executive secretary, we started spending a lot more time together and his flirting became more of a seduction. It was easy to see what he wanted and I was flattered that such a powerful and important man would take an interest in me.

"Once, after office hours, when I was in his office, he made his move. He grabbed me forcefully and started kissing me neck and throat. His charisma combined with his physical good looks and well-built body were too much for me. He took me, or I should say we took each other right there in his office on his leather couch. He was a skilled lover and he made me climax over and over. I liked it so much that I immediately knew that I was not going to give this up."

"Apparently, you didn't think twice about being an adulteress or making me a cuckold," I said.

Tracey replied, "I sorry, Blake, but I didn't. But that doesn't mean that I don't love you. You are still the man I want to spend the rest of my life with."

I took a drink of my beer and said, "Good luck making that happen."

"Tell me, Tracey," I continued, "why, after seven months of successfully cheating and lying to me, have you now decided to come out in the open? You could have gone on like you have been for years, apparently, without me ever knowing."

"Up to this time, Blake, we have been having sex in Stan's office, in the backseat of Stan's limo and in hotel and motel rooms during the day. We both decided that we were tired of that. We wanted to be open enough to enjoy our relationship to the fullest. That meant, we wanted to sleep together overnight, go out in public, and travel together as lovers. The only way to do that is to get you on board with the lifestyle we desire.

I took another drink of my beer and said, "Again, good luck making that happen."

"No, no, Blake," Tracey leaned forward and tried to take my hands in hers. "There will be no divorce. We are going to stay married. You just have to accept the fact that Stan and I are going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on. I will be staying with him overnight at least one to two nights a week. Sometimes we will go for weekend vacations together and, occasionally, I may go with him on an extended vacation to Europe or the Caribbean or somewhere.

"Plus, as his PA, I will get to travel with Stan and meet a lot of important people. I will attend all of his business meetings and I will be his companion at social events such as dinners at the homes of his influential friends.

"Stan is paying me a lot of money. It will be good for us. Think of the benefits. Consider all of the things that we will be able to afford: Vacations, the college education of our kids. We will finally be able to upgrade the cabin on the lake like we always talked about."

I replied, "Do you think I would want any of those things paid for with the money earned by Stanley's company whore?"

"I'm not a whore!" Tracey responded angrily. "I'm an asset to the company. I am the confidant Stan needs by his side as he runs his law firm. Sex is part of the business of a powerful, influential man. I'm proud that such a great man would permit me to become his mistress. And you should be, too.

"Besides, this relationship probably won't last forever. I'll guess it will last two years or three at the most. Then, it will be just as before. I will be your faithful wife again and we will enjoy our wonderful family together for the next fifty years.

"Also, you should know, Stan wants to be your friend. He believes that I can be shared as long as he gets what he wants out of the arrangement and you meet his requirements. He knows that I love you and I will still want you to make love to me. Stan even said you could have sex with me at times. It's just that there will be some conditions.

"Since he will be visiting us here at our home on occasion, he really wants to become friends of the family, maybe even be regarded as an attentive uncle to our children."

Inwardly, I became furious, but I retained my relatively quiet comportment. I stated adamantly, "That asshole will never see or talk to my kids—EVER! Do you understand me clearly?"

And then it struck me and I had to ask, "Why would the asshole want to be close to my family? Doesn't he have a family of his own?"

Tracey answered, "Stan is married to a beautiful young lady that is almost twenty years his junior. She comes from a very prominent family. In many ways it was a marriage of convenience. But unfortunately, she is barren and unable to have children."

"Maybe the asshole should adopt some and stay out of other people's marriages," I stated.

"Stan very much wants to have his own children, at least one. He wants a blood heir to someday pass his law practice on to. He would prefer a son, but a daughter would be acceptable too. Ideally, he would like to have one of both."

"Then why doesn't the asshole use a surrogate? Then, he could have all the children he wanted," I reasoned.

"He has talked about that with me. He told me that he very much wants to father a child or children, but he would make a terrible daddy. He wants any child of his to be raised in a loving family environment."

Then, Tracey hung her head.

"Oh God, I can't wait to hear this," I said, getting angrier because I was thunderstruck by the point that Tracey was making. Then, I realized what Tracey was saying. "He wants to impregnate you, doesn't he? And then he wants me to play daddy to his bastard child!"

"It wouldn't be a bastard child," Tracey stated adamantly. "I would be my baby, too, and I would love it and so would you because you love me. And it would have Cross as a last name. Stan would pay us a lot of money to raise his baby and he would take care of all the expenses until his son or daughter was out of college."

"Oh fuck, are you already pregnant?" I asked.

"No," she answered, "but he wants me to go off the pill in a few months. I told him, I wanted you to be on board with the new relationship before we do that."

"This just keeps getting better and better," I said to myself.

Again, I reiterated in no uncertain terms, "Good luck making that happen."

Tracey was angry. "Stop saying that!" she demanded. "I know that's the way you feel now, Blake, but after some time has passed, we hope you change your mind."

I was stunned by her comments. Just as I was getting up to confront her, the doorbell rang. Tracey ran to the door, letting her boss in. As he stepped through the door, he grabbed her around the waist with one hand and ran his other hand over her butt. They kissed each other ardently.

"This just keeps getting better and better," I said to myself again.