The Relationship Tester

Now I was even more incredulous. Finally I stammered, "OK -- can you at least wait until Thursday. Bryce gets back from his business trip on Wednesday so I can tell him face-to-face before he reads your report."

"I can do that," he smiled.

Like an automaton I grabbed my purse, walked into the bathroom, and took a long hot shower, trying to wash the stink of my cheating away; it was hard to do since I was still in a trance, and intermittently focused on how well Roger had "serviced" me.

When I walked back into the bedroom part of the hotel suite Roger was gone, a note with a big smiley face on the pillow. I quickly got dressed and went home, changed, and went to see my Mom and stayed over for dinner. I tried hard to purge the last twenty four hours from my mind. While not successful in doing that, at least I was able to have a decent drama-less phone conversation with Bryce that night.

It was Sunday, as I was planning on exactly what to say to Bryce, when suddenly things that had been murky Friday night and Saturday morning started to come into focus. The fog that enveloped my brain suddenly lifted and I had a partial "Eureka" moment. I anxiously scrolled through the video from my cameras. The camera in the end of my purse didn't reveal anything unusual, but the one in the side of the purse -- which Roger clearly was not aware of since I saw him turn my purse on the bar so that the end camera was at a ninety degree angle to him -- did. When I was in the washroom I could clearly see Roger's hands opening a small vial of liquid, and putting a few drops into the Cherry Bitch which had been delivered while I was away.

Then I got lucky. In my stupor early Saturday morning just before I had intercourse with Roger I had apparently inadvertently turned the audio recorder in my purse on instead of off. It caught the phone conversation Roger had in the bathroom while I was fingering myself in bed before our first sex session. I only got one side -- Roger's -- of the conversation, but that was all that I needed:

"Hi Bryce...Yeah, it was easy to spike her drink with that new type of roofie that you provided me with...She's in the hotel room now, waiting for me, and that stuff really works -- she seems hotter than a firecracker but has no clue that she's been drugged...OK; but are you really sure that you want me to fuck your wife? Isn't filming her in bed naked enough?...All right, it's your party...Yeah I will have a camera pointed at the bed and will get as much video as you could ever need...Actually, I should pay you instead of you paying me. This is the best job that I ever had in my life...[laughter]...Roger out!...[chuckle]." This was followed by the sounds of teeth brushing and a quick shower.

Now I was confused; why would Bryce pay someone to drug and screw me? Was he really trying to get rid of me with the upper hand in a divorce because I violated the fidelity clause in the pre-nup? He enjoyed sex with me so much that even if our personalities clashed sometimes, it was hard for me to believe that he wanted to ditch me.

Without resolving my confusion, I got angry; really, really, Carolina Reaper Pepper-hot irate! I was about to call Swanson on his cell to see what I could get out of him when my cell rang. It was Swanson.

"Hi Amy -- how did things go Friday night?" he asked, sounding miffed.

"Odd -- really odd. I'm going to need you to tell me who the anonymous girlfriend is because I must talk to her."

"One of the reasons I'm calling is because I hoped that you got some information out of Ward about who she really is because her retainer check bounced, and there seems to be no person by the name that she gave me anywhere in the entire area," he growled.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Bryce had arranged for the anonymous girlfriend too. Obviously he had one of his old friends pretend to be a socialite, gave her a fake ID and a phony check. No wonder Roger wasn't worried about me telling his non-existent girlfriend about our tryst. I was snapped back to the present when Swanson said "Are you still there Amy?"

"Uh...yeah...sorry, Swannie, I was just thinking. I believe that the entire thing was a con of both of us. I'm hopping mad right now, but I assure you that I'll get you full compensation -- it just might take a while. In the meantime I'm going to be putting the screws to your competitor 'Stray, Pay,' and its bitch owner Cheryl."

"That's what I like to hear," Swanson laughed.

We talked a few minutes more, and then mutually terminated the call.

*************

I was at a loss of what specifically to do. However, I knew just the person to talk to. Someone who had no love lost for Bryce, and seemed -- after our initial locking of horns -- to genuinely like me. Of course that was Chester Wallace.

First thing Monday morning I called Chester's office and I was put straight through to him. "Why Amy, what a pleasant surprise," he greeted me.

"You may not think it's so pleasant when I intrude on your day with what I want to talk about," I said, choking up as the issues that left me sleepless Sunday night came to the forefront of my brain.

"You sound distressed; tell me what I can do?"

"Can you find a half hour today to talk to me about a personal problem I need your advice on?" I replied, again choking up.

"Just a second -- let me get Maureen in here; I'm putting you on hold," he responded; Maureen, of course, is his trusty personal assistant.

He was back on the line in less than a minute. "Can you come to my office for lunch -- I'll have it brought in -- from 12:30 -- 1:15?"

"Sure, if you don't mind," I replied.

"Of course I don't mind -- see you then," he snickered, and then we mutually terminated the call.

I wore the same outfit that I did when I first met Chester -- but with the gold necklace I bought on his dime -- when I went to his office.

"As lovely as ever," he gushed as he gave me a hug, "and such a beautiful necklace," he chortled, knowing full well that he bought it for me.

"And more screwed up then ever," I lamented when we broke our hug.

A fancy luncheon spread was brought into his office and served on a tablecloth on his conference table. Since I didn't want to waste his time, I talked as we ate, and gave him a capsule view of all of the salient points.

I started to tear up when I concluded with "I don't know what to do to make Bryce pay."

Chester squeezed my hand. With a glint in his eye he asked an odd question -- maybe not odd in general, but something about the way he asked it was odd. "Is a divorce likely?"

"I don't see another final out. After what he did I'm certainly not merely going to kiss and make up," I retorted -- again choking up.

He picked up the phone on his conference room table and said "Maureen, get Kevin in here right away. Have someone track him down if he's not in his office."

"Who's Kevin?"

"I guess that you haven't met him; he's my twenty eight year old son, who works in our legal department as the liaison with outside litigation counsel," he responded, and then put a piece of salmon teriyaki in his mouth.

"Is he an attorney?"

"He's my pride and joy; graduated with honors from Princeton Law School almost three years ago," he smiled after swallowing the fish.

We chatted some more about Kevin -- and Merilee -- for about five minutes before a tall well-put together young man in a polo shirt and khakis sauntered in. "You had an emergency Dad?" he asked.

"Kevin, you've heard me talk about Amy Hubbard, haven't you? You finally get the pleasure of meeting her," Chester said. Both he and I stood up and Kevin took my offered hand in both of his.

"Dad has talked about you often -- although not around Mom -- she has a jealous streak," Kevin laughed, exposing a perfect set of pearly whites and dancing blue eyes as he did so.

For some reason it seemed like an electric charge ran up my arm, and I was temporarily at a loss for words. Although Chester was a very good looking man, Kevin had him beat in the looks department in every way. I couldn't help but notice no wedding ring.

Chester broke the silence while Kevin was still holding my right hand between his with "I was just telling Amy that you're an attorney and you come in dressed like you're about to play eighteen holes," Chester chuckled.

Kevin turned to me and with an impish grin said "Dad and I have a running battle about proper dress during business hours -- he always wears a coat and tie, I only do when I have to go to court." Then Kevin turned to Chester and asked "What's up?"

We all sat down -- Kevin nibbling some of the onion rings from the platter in the middle of the table as we spoke -- as Chester related a synopsis of my problem to Kevin. He concluded with "Kevin, I want you to consult with one of the sharks that you swim with and plot the best course of action for Amy to take. When can you do that?"

"Well, as luck would have it, Gloria Bunton is coming to a combined business-social mixer on the yacht tonight. Amy could tell Gloria and me the complete story then," Kevin said with a smile, gazing back and forth between Chester and me. Then looking at me he asked "Can you make it? 7:30 at the harbor. We're not leaving the dock; it's just that it's pleasant on the yacht at this time of year."

"Gloria Bunton?" I mumbled to myself, "she's not a shark, she's an Orca." After mumbling to myself I said "I'd appreciate that Kevin, but my money may be tied up a while and I don't know if I could afford someone that famous."

"Oh nonsense," Chester scoffed. "We have her on retainer and have done more to line her coffers than any three other clients she's had. Unless it turns out to be prolonged litigation, she'll be happy to help; right Kevin?"

"Right, Dad," Kevin chuckled.

Kevin excused himself, reiterating what slip at the pier that the yacht was docked at, and Chester and I finished our lunch. We made mostly friendly and upbeat small talk, except a parting zinger that Chester is famous for. "Since I met you I have wanted Kevin to marry you -- who knows what will happen after your divorce," he snickered as he gave me a hug goodbye and then promptly turned tail back into his office without a look back, while bellowing "Maureen -- what's on at 1:15?"

"Chester is really a piece of work," I chortled to myself as I walked to my car. "Kevin is really hot, but I'm a year older than he is, still married, and I'm sure that he's got other fish to fry," I silently repeated until I convinced myself that Chester was just blowing smoke.

****************

I was impressed by Chester's yacht. I was greeted warmly by Kevin and the hostess, Megan, who I assumed was Kevin's girlfriend.

There were about twenty people at the gathering, all upper crust but not a snide or haughty bone among them. Most were imbibing, but I was not, and I noticed that Kevin didn't drink alcohol either. About 8:00 p. m. Kevin introduced me to Gloria Bunton -- who looked just like she did on T V and had the charismatic raspy no-nonsense voice that she was famous for.

After a few minutes of small talk Kevin said "Amy, Gloria and I are going into the state room to talk business for about ten minutes -- then I want you to come in there. I'll call Megan to retrieve you."

With that, Kevin and Gloria ascended to the upper level state room. I sought out Megan, for some unknown reason having the need to size her up.

To my surprise after a short conversation with Megan I found out that she was an employee, and had no relationship with Kevin aside from the fact that they both worked for companies that Chester owned. I then had a friendly and informative chat with Gloria's husband -- who I remembered that I had met at the charity event I had organized for Chester -- and by then Megan came to get me, escorted me to the state room, and then left.

I told Kevin and Gloria my unvarnished story; they both asked pointed, salient, questions. Gloria didn't take notes, but Kevin was doing something on an iPad as we talked. Once Gloria asked the last relevant question, she tipped her head back for a minute while Kevin and I remained silent. Then she snapped her head down and started talking.

In five minutes Gloria laid out what I thought was a perfect plan -- Kevin masterfully burnished a few of the elements without causing her to lose her train of thought. She concluded with "How does that sound?"

I shook my head in awe; "Wow -- that's a fabulous plan. Looks like I came to the right people. What's the first step?"

"Here's my card," she said holding it out. I did her the courtesy of standing up and walking up to her to get the business card from her. "Send me an email tomorrow with as much information as you have about Roger Ward, this Cheryl woman and her 'Stray, Pay' abomination, and salient information about Bryce. Come to my office about 2 p. m. to sign some papers making you a legitimate client -- even though Kevin says that it's on Chester's tab," she laughed, looking over at Kevin, who returned her mirth. "Finally, call me Thursday morning with how your confrontation with Bryce went on Wednesday night, and then we'll shift into high gear."

"I can't...uh...really...uh... tell you how grateful I am," I stuttered, with unwelcome tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm happy to help; you've been badly abused, and I don't like to see nice people abused," she retorted, giving me a hug. "You don't mind if I keep Kevin in the loop, and have he do some legwork for us, do you?" she asked.

"Please do," I said, smiling at Kevin as I wiped away the few wayward salty drops that had momentarily clouded my vision.

The rest of the evening Kevin -- though not hovering -- went out of his way to make me feel welcome and to cheer me up. He even walked me to my car and closed the evening with a hug as he whispered "Everything is going to work out fine."

I smiled, thanked him, and then drove off as he waved goodbye, baffled by why my panties had gotten wet when Kevin hugged me.

********************

When Bryce got home from his business trip Wednesday about 6:00 p. m. I coldly hit him with the words that every man in a relationship dreads: "We need to talk."

"Can I put my suitcase away first, darling?" he chortled.

"No; you can get your fucking ass in the den right now and deal with your suitcase later," I barked.

That got his attention since it was the first time in the roughly four years that he had known me that I ever swore.

I motioned for him to sit on one of the couches, and pulled up a padded chair next to it, with my laptop on the coffee table in front of us. "Do you know this guy?" I sternly asked as I flashed a photo of Roger Ward on the screen.

"I...I don't think so," he grunted, his throat constricting.

"Funny -- his name is Roger Ward and you hired him to roofie and fuck me," I challenged.

Hearing the F-word come out of my mouth twice in as many minutes after never having heard it pass through my lips the four years before that had the desired effect -- he turned red, and was clearly on the defensive.

"What...what are you talking about," he lamely replied.

"He works for Stray, Pay, a competitor's of Deception, Inc. You had a proxy set it up with Deception so that I would have one last fling as a relationship tester with Roger -- an operative himself -- as the supposed mark. Then you had him drug and fuck me," I snarled.

"I...I don't know where this is coming from," he lamented -- holding out his hands in a "peace" gesture.

I played the video of Roger spiking my drink, and then the audio of Roger's phone conversation with Bryce. For the first time since I met him Bryce had a defeated look on his face.

Then as gently as I could I asked him "Why would you hire someone to drug and rape me? If you wanted a divorce, I would have said sayonara without any drama. Is the money related to the fidelity clause that important to you?"

With his face flushed he looked me in the eye. "I don't want a divorce; I love you?"

"Then why pay a guy to drug and rape me?" I queried.

After a long pause he said "I'm insecure around you. Every guy wants to be with you, and you consider my protectiveness jealousy or resentfulness. I feel like I have no power when it comes to you, and that makes me insecure. I...I...I thought that this would give me some power so that I could convince you to keep other guys from coming-on to you."

"WOW -- that is the most screwed up logic, based upon the most false premise, that I have ever heard in my life," I marveled, shaking my head. "I don't let guys come on to me, I've never cheated on you and never would, and how can you be so successful in life and so anxious when it comes to me?"

"What are you going to do?" he asked as he wrung his hands.

"Bryce, there is no way I can live with this betrayal. I'll be at my mother's house and get the divorce papers started. I hope that we can amicably resolve this."

With that I got grabbed my car keys and went out the door. My clothing, jewelry and other personal items, and even the household artwork that I wanted, had already been delivered that morning and afternoon to my mother's house, or to storage, by movers that Kevin had arranged for. Bryce just sat there stunned as I walked out, although I did see him look out the front door as I drove away.

I was so hurt, and so filled with angst, that I just let Gloria and Kevin handle the situation with respect to Bryce, Roger, and Cheryl. It amazed me how fast and relatively painlessly -- at least for me -- things got resolved when the three of them were pursued by the human Orca Gloria, with help from her shark Kevin, and the words "police," "jail," and "destruction," were seriously bandied about.

The only reason that Bryce and Roger weren't jailed was because they were contrite and I took pity on them -- although if Gloria had her way they would have been roommates with some 300 pound bald tattooed Nazi named "Bubba" in the state Big House. The final tally was:

--The divorce was final within four months, almost record time. I got a payout comparable to five times what I would have gotten under the pre-nup if Bryce had cheated -- plus all the artwork I wanted.

--Between Bryce, Roger, and Cheryl -- some contribution from each -- they paid off Swanson, and then some. Swannie was one happy dude, even though I made him promise to go on a diet and stop smoking before I had Kevin hand the checks over to him.

--Cheryl's "Stray, Pay," went out of business.

--Roger was forbidden to ever work as a relationship tester again, agreed to work 200 hours for a local women's shelter, and to give 10% of his earnings over the next five years to a rape crisis center. As part of that Roger signed a waiver of the statute of limitations so that if he didn't fulfill the requirements of community service and charitable contributions and got into any related trouble in the future he could not only be sued by me in civil court and bankrupted, but also he could be prosecuted criminally.

I wish that the disaster had never happened -- although I was pleased with the outcome given that it had -- and in view of further developments.

**************

One bizarre thing happened after all the papers were signed, but before my divorce was final. Roger actually had the gall to call me and say "Amy, I know that I did you wrong; but you have to admit that we really clicked in bed. You were my best lay ever, and unless you're a great actress I was your top dog too."

I was so stunned that I was speechless for a few seconds, long enough so that he asked "Are you still there?"

"Uh...yeah...I'm here," I replied, drawing upon all of my thespian skills, plus those perfected at Deception, to seem calm. "So you want to get together again?"

"Yeah; I'd really love that, Amy. No drugs, just love," he had the nerve to say.