The Curse of the Scots Ch. 05

Confusion and tension mounts.

The next day we got a call; they'd taken Aaron to the emergency room. My one shot had cracked open his skull. He not only needed stitches, but they'd taken him to Salisbury where they'd performed emergency surgery and had to insert a plate in his skull. They told me the police had tried like crazy but they couldn't find anybody who saw anything. Aaron, when he came around, bless his heart, refused to say who'd done it. I knew I'd have to stay indoors for a few days. I didn't want anyone to see me, plus I didn't want the police coming after me.

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All in all it had been a hell of a way to end the week after Easter. I was several days getting better. Caprice played Clara Barton and acted like I was some kind of hero. I guess in a way I was. I knew when I got back out in circulation nobody would bring Caprice's past up; at least not in front of me. About the Clara Barton thing, I mean it, she really doted on me. There wasn't any sex; but I sure got a lot of just honest to God down home tender loving care. I loved it. She even put Neosporin around my black eye; talk about a turn around.

The couple weeks turned out both good and bad. There was a lot of good. Emily had fallen in love with her pony. Aubrey visited the bar with his other brother, and they sort of suggested nobody should try for a payback against me. Angie wasn't really nice to me, but she stopped going out of her way to be mean. Dr. Deane sent over Caprice's medical report; she was clean. I managed to get the glass with Caprice's fingerprints sent off, but nothing had come back yet. The dentist had done Caprice's two cavities, and he'd glued in her temporary caps. Her real caps were still a few days away.

There was some bad too. Angie had started her job, and some of the library patrons had been teasing her about the way she looked and the work she had to do. From what I heard the worse thing for her was the way her old friends, her 'good' friends, from high school mistreated her. I thought that was tacky. Devereau refused to intercede; what a prick! I saw her uniform; it was an ugly blue nylon thing with a white nylon apron. I didn't like it. I told her I was proud of her. She ignored my praise.

Pastor Cook had been seeing both Angie and Caprice, and I got a whiff of what he was trying to do. Man, to me it was like a whiff of gunpowder. He wanted them to be more assertively independent; that meant one thing, no more Cayden.

I got a little jealous, actually more than a little jealous; Angie and Caprice have become more than just extra close friends, they're friends with benefits. Sometimes Caprice will pick Angie up after she gets off work and they overnight in my house. I'd sleep in the downstairs bedroom across the hall from the master bedroom. Late at night I can hear them. That coupled with the fact Caprice stopped showing any amorous interest in me made me feel more and more like I was the odd man out.

By amorous I mean sexual interest; Caprice hasn't shown any interest that way. On all the other levels though, like talking and quiet sharing times, and just general warmth she's been wonderful. When Angie isn't around in some ways it's like we're an old married couple. Sometimes I put my head in her lap and she rubs my back. Sometimes she leans forward to whisper something and I can feel her boobs press against my ear; they're real soft. Caprice is just...well I mean...she's just...I guess... she's just a nice person.

I've been trying. I think, or thought, I was doing all the right things, but here I was becoming even more of an outsider in my own house. Can a man be a cuckold in his own house. Can he be cuckold by two women; women he cared about more than anything? It sure seemed like it.

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Devereau's observations.

Angie had a tough time her first few days at the library. I watched it. I'm new to the area; I only moved here a few weeks before Mr. McLeish called me about Angie so I had some catching up to do.

Let me say people are cruel no matter where they live, and it wasn't too long before I had the complete story about Angie and Cayden. My guess is both of them deserve everything they get.

I'd moved down from Philadelphia where I'd gone through a pretty tough time myself. I'd married my college sweetheart right after graduation. She belonged to one of those prestigious sororities where the girls got just about everything they wanted. I had an off campus apartment I shared with two other guys. My future wife, her name was Gloria, went to school, and thanks to her father's wealth, she had no financial concerns. I on the other hand had to scrape and save for everything.

Gloria had gone to college to have a good time; to find herself is what she called it. She played and partied her way through four years. She majored in English Literature; she agreed it was a largely worthless area of study, but she told me she wasn't interested in a career, only in finding a man. To my delight, and later to my chagrin, she found me.

I majored in business administration, but along the way took an interest in Library Technology, or Library Science, call it what you will. It looked like an area where fewer people ventured; in short a place where I could find a niche and move ahead. I'm Matt Devereau by the way.

I got moving, and started to make my way. I finished my four years, got a grant and some help from a distant relative, and was able to hang on and get an M.A. in Library Science. Upon graduation I found out pretty quickly this field was jammed as tight as everything else. Still I got lucky and found work in the Philadelphia Public Library.

Gloria found me at a summer mixer. I had been there finishing some preliminary course work for my masters. She was there playing catch up on classes she'd avoided. I fell for her like a ton of bricks. She was a gorgeous blond haired blue eyed Norse Goddess. Popular didn't describe her; she was every guy's fantasy. Unbelievably she took an interest in me. I thought it was true love; later I found out I was her 'cover' when she wanted to go out and get it on. For sure, all through her senior year I was her dutiful, loyal, and incredibly dumb escort.

Man I really loved her; she was good in bed, and I believed loyal to me. Of course, I put in a lot of time on my graduate studies and the menial work I had to perform for some of the professors. I had to teach the 'pick up' classes they missed, and in one case I found myself doing most of one professor's research for a book he was writing. All this time while I was obediently and lovingly playing escort for Gloria and busting my ass in graduate school she was either spreading her legs or chewing on some fraternity boy's dick. I didn't have a clue.

I finished graduate school and she finished her senior year. Right away we got married. Since we'd attended the University of Pennsylvania, and I'd found a job at the Philadelphia Public Library System once married we were never far from the scene of Gloria's social activities. I married her, worked hard all day and started investigating doctoral programs, while she played nighttime homemaker and daytime whore. Sooner or later something was bound to happen.

Honestly I never had a clue. I thought she was being faithful until one afternoon I came home early. Isn't that the way these things usually work? Well I found her as she was finishing up. She was walking around in her bra and panties, while this guy, a jock of course, was sitting in my living room in his jockey shorts drinking one of my Coors. First one look at the giant in jockeys, I'm a boxer shorts man, and I nearly lost it. I didn't have to ask what had been going on. We lived in an apartment; one trip to the bedroom told the story. I didn't argue, or cry, or ask any questions; the look on her face finished the story. I packed up a couple suitcases and was gone in twenty minutes. The guy drinking my beer didn't even get up.

I moved back to some ratty old off campus housing and set up housekeeping with a couple other nerds. Gloria found me a few days later. She apologized, she cried, she promised it would never happen again, but by then I'd found out a little more about her extra-marital activities as well as some very unwanted and unsolicited information about what she'd been doing before we were married. It's amazing how the roaches crawl out from under the eaves with bad news once they find out somebody's down.

She called constantly, so I finally gave up and answered my cell phone. I listened to her. I really loved her. I wanted to pretend I could go back like nothing had ever happened, but I knew who I was. I might not have been a jock, and I might not have been the most popular guy on campus, or now at work, but I was still a man. Broken marriage vows were to me like a broken egg; it was like taking a raw egg and dropping it on the floor, once the shell was cracked it was over, ruined.

Gloria didn't give up easily. It took her several months to give up. I got e-mails, phone calls, letters, visits from all her girlfriends, and even from some old boyfriends. I heard how she'd opted for the life of a chaste nun while I was gone. I even started to believe what I was hearing. Just too make sure I went back to our apartment and wired the place. Yeah she was chaste all right. I caught her one time; she was on the phone with me pleading for a second chance while some guy was simultaneously stuffing her crack with his tool.

I went back one more time to show her a video of her activities; the thing was timed and dated so she couldn't deny anything. She flew into a rage; she called me every name in the book, and swore she'd have my ass on a slab in the morgue. She nearly did too. She got a couple of her 'friends' to find me and beat the shit out of me one night, then she had the nerve to visit me in the hospital where we said our final good byes, they weren't amicable. It was then I realized our break up hurt her pride more than her heart.

It was over. I cried and felt blue, but mostly I was pissed. I'd never dreamed I'd ever have to fight anybody. I vowed nobody would ever beat me up like that again. I signed up for some Karate lessons. And after a few months of effort and humiliation I believed I was sufficiently capable of defending myself if anything similar ever occurred. Of course, Karate isn't something a person just does and quits, it becomes something of a passion. Since I left Philadelphia and moved south I found a new Karate school, and I've continued my studies. I hope I never have to use what I'm learning, but not being an athlete and not being especially muscular it's given me the confidence to know I won't be ambushed so easily again.

I learned some other things from Gloria; for one I learned women aren't that trustworthy, and a second thing I learned was there were a lot of guys who are more than ready to fuck up somebody else's life if they thought they might get a cheap piece of ass. Yes, from what I've been told about Angie and Cayden both of them have a lot to answer for.

That leaves me with the Angie situation. Angie had to put up with a lot of guff her first days of work. Word got out she was this drudge working at the library. Many of her old high school friends came by near closing time each night to make comments. Others, part of the jailhouse alcohol gang came by too; they were just as cruel. I think her old friends hurt her the most. I kept out of it.

The only person who came by and stood up for her turned out to be this woman I found out was a prostitute. Her name someone told me was Caprice. I'd seen my share of Philadelphia whores; this one made them all look like skanks.

They were an odd pair. I started watching them. They were obviously more than just friends. Caprice was the dominant, and it was easy for me to see there was a powerful bond of affection between the two of them. I thought Mr. McLeish might stop by, but he never did. Later I found out he'd gotten hammered at a bar trying to defend the prostitute. I lost a lot of respect for him when I heard that; no woman is worth risking one's health or sanity for. I'd learned that the hard way.

Angie interested me. She wasn't the hottest piece of ass I'd seen, but she was about as far from Gloria as one could imagine. I started to imagine what it would be like to get little Miss Angie in the sack. To be sure she wasn't someone I'd want a real relationship with. If I intended to spend any time where I was she'd be the last person I'd hook up with long term. Still she was needy and alone, and I was getting tired of the old five finger work-out.

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Caprice gets her makeover.

Cayden took me back to the dentist today and I got my permanent caps. He had to do a little grinding and shaping. But when he was finished I felt good. I had all new teeth. Cayden made me stand in front of the mirror. Yep, he got me to stand in front of a mirror at the dentist's and smile. He told me, "Now that's a beautiful smile on a beautiful face."

I looked at my image and I thought I didn't look half bad, but when he told me I looked beautiful it was like a rush of warm air flooded over me. I've been around a lot of men, and I've heard all the compliments, but when Cayden says something it's like its real. I mean when he said I looked beautiful I felt beautiful. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted him to take me home so I could make love to him. I should have said something. I know if I told him how I felt he'd take me home and we'd spend the whole afternoon together. I don't know that we'd spend the day in bed having sex; I do know we'd certainly spend the day being close. I didn't though.

I know how much Angie loves Cayden, and Angie's my girl. I know Angie's a grown woman, but she behaves like a child around me; it's like she's my baby. Sure it's a fantasy, but partly because of it I know I can never encourage Cayden. The other part that scares me is how I'm starting to feel about him. I know he likes me, but when he went to that bar and got the shit kicked out him for me it was like the greatest that ever happened to me. I mean I didn't want him to get hurt, but I think every woman likes the idea of a man fighting for her. And he did it for me, a whore!

I'm just staring at him while he's staring at me, I told him, "I'm afraid to eat anything. I don't want to get them messed up."

He says he loves the way I look, he says he loves the way my voice sounds, he says he loves it when I flash my eyes when I talk. I think he's full of shit. Then I got a big surprise when he said, "Caprice you can forget about food for a little while."

"Why," I asked?

"We have another doctor's visit today."

"Really," I asked, "where?"

He smiled and said, "I'll tell you in the truck," He held my arm while we walked to the truck, once we were inside and belted he told me, "You remember I promised you about your vagina and your rectum."

I looked at him, "Oh that."

"Yeah that," he started the truck and pulled out on the road, "We have an appointment to see someone about your rectum," he got kind of what I call Cayden serious; that's when he tries to make his voice get lower and he furrows his eyebrows all up. It's really quite humorous; he just can't carry the serious thing off. He sort of scowled and said, "I can tell when you're self-consciously trying to squeeze your cheeks together afraid you might involuntarily pass gas. You're too young and beautiful for that."

There he was with the beautiful thing again, I said, "If you say so."

He pronounced, "I say so."

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We made it to the doctor's and after a lengthy wait, what else is new, we were ushered in. At first the doctor didn't want Cayden to come back with him, me, and the nurse, but I insisted, after all it was his money and his ass. The doctor looked me over. He was really careful, a real gentleman. Then we went back out to his office. The doctor's name was Owen Winthrop.

Dr. Winthrop explained. "There's some damage there. Some of it's the result of Caprice's age, but most of it is the outcome of sexual abuse."

I interrupted him, "Cayden didn't do anything. I'm a reformed prostitute. A lot of men have used me there." Cayden looked exuberant! I think it was because I hadn't called myself a whore, and I said I was reformed!

Dr. Winthrop looked at Cayden, then at me, "The procedure is pretty forthright. I cut out the hemorrhoids, remove the fissures, and clean out the scar tissue. I can use laser or scalpel, laser is easier and cleaner. Then I'll sew her back together, and after a few days she'll be better than ever." He tried to give Cayden a meaningful look, "The damage will be repaired, but that won't mean much if she's still misused."

I watched Cayden when he answered the doctor, he said, "It's my understanding Dr. Winthrop the rectum is for excretion and nothing else. Though Caprice is a grown woman, and what she does with her body is her business, I can guarantee as long as she's with me she'll be treated with the greatest respect."

I was so proud of him. I felt like he was defending my honor again. 'Gee', I thought, 'I had honor!'

Cayden asked, "When can we do this?"

The doctor answered, "I do my surgeries on Tuesdays. This is Wednesday. If you schedule with my secretary before you leave, I think we can get Ms. Fischer out of the way week after next."

Cayden looked at me, "You good with that?"

I thought, 'Good with that? Good with that, geez he's fixing my body!' "Yes," was all I could think of to say.

Doctor Winthrop walked us to his secretary where she checked his schedule, "7:30?"

Cayden looked at me, I answered, "Yes."

The secretary continued, "Good try to get there an hour early so the nurses can prepare you, and all the paperwork can be taken care of," almost as an afterthought she added, "This is a surgical procedure so I'll need to know if your insurance will cover it."

Cayden didn't blink an eye, "You want cash or a check."

The nurse stumbled over her next words, "Either way; payment in advance is always best."

I watched as Cayden got out his checkbook and wrote a check for the full amount, then he added, "If there are any additional costs we'll take care of that after surgery."

The nurse gulped, "Yes sir."

Cayden asked, "Will there be anything else?"

The nurse replied, "Nothing really; there will be some paperwork to be completed Tuesday morning, but this should do it."

Cayden looked at me, "Lunch?"

I took my right arm and wrapped it around his left. I pressed my head on his shoulder, "How about Bob Evans. I could do some fried eggs."

Cayden laughed, "Fried eggs on the way."

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The big Tuesday came, and I found myself at the hospital. Cayden and Angie waited while the doctor did his job. By noon I was awake and in recovery. The doctor's office had left a set of instructions, and a list of things to watch for. At Cayden's insistence I stayed one night, and was sent home Wednesday afternoon. I had Angie all day, and Cayden all night. I felt like the Queen of England.

Cayden wanted to see what my rectum looked like after the operation. I guess he had a right to look; he paid for it. Still, though I might be, or might have been, a whore, I felt a little uncomfortable about him seeing me. I mean looking at my ass. I can't exactly explain why. I think I was getting a little sheepish around him. Cayden and I had made love, but now things were different, in a funny way different. I can't explain it. The thought of bending over and displaying my ass for him made me feel self-conscious. Oh sure, I was a cheap whore, but I didn't feel that way around Cayden, not anymore.

I got out of him looking by lying. I told him it still hurt, and it was all red. I asked him to wait a few days before looking. He agreed.