tagLoving WivesThe Short Happy Life of Island Bill

The Short Happy Life of Island Bill

bydtiverson©

This is a shoutout to the folks who say that I can't write a classic "loving wives" story. It also lets me reintroduce some characters from another one of my stories. They were characters who I especially liked and didn't want to lose touch with. Also, you might guess the place where my fictional hero works. So I want to state categorically that, "Even though you might think that - I couldn't possibly comment." Enjoy...

*****

CHAPTER ONE: DESCENT

Nobody gets rich in academe. But I work a six hour week. And I take home a six figure salary. Plus, DC is a target rich environment for consulting on the side. So I am not complaining.

Janet, my wife of 12 years, works for the University too. She started as an Administrative Assistant. But the girl was way too talented for the minor leagues. So she is the Director of Development now.

For those of you who don't speak "academic" Development is what we eggheads call "begging." In effect, Janet asks the alumni for money. And she can charm the birds down out of the trees.

Who wouldn't want to hand a big check to Janet? At age 37 she is still perfectly gorgeous. Her dark features and curvy figure fit her Italian heritage. She is also a very smart woman, well-read and cultured and wickedly funny. In fact her sense of humor is the thing people remember the most about her.

But in the world of fund raising the money maker is her chest.

She has told me that her superb tits are a pain in the ass, mainly because they require extra care and feeding. But she will also freely admit that they open a lot of doors for her.

For instance, I remember an evening when the two of us were out with a prospect. The guy was in his sixties and filthy rich. The woman he was with was still the starter wife, close to his age and frumpy.

The prospective donor was ogling Janet like she was that proverbial puppy in the window. That was not a rare state of affairs. The whole point of having somebody like Janet doing the asking is that she is stunningly attractive.

As the evening got drunker Janet's mark got handsier. The guy couldn't take his eyes off of the half foot of cleavage showing in her little black dress. While he talked, the guy had his hand moving up and down on her arm, right next to her massive left tit.

His wife who had arrived looking bored, now looked disgusted. At the same time, Janet was ignoring where his hand was and hanging on his every word.

I was sitting across from her. All of the time the guy was copping his pseudo feel a stocking clad foot was making its way up and down my leg. And my wife was cutting me looks that were both surreptitiously amused and shameless enough to melt my fillings. She was clearly saying, "Can you believe this guy?" That was my Janet. Working and playing at the same time.

She left with a big check. I got my reward when we got home.

I didn't marry Janet until the end of my 20s. And I had a lot of female bed-partners before then. But I have never met a woman as totally abandoned in the bedroom as she is.

I know that most women like to have cocks in them. In fact they like to have cocks in them a lot more than we like putting them there.

But there is a huge qualitative difference between the ones who just lie there with their legs spread going, "Oh Baby-Baby!" and a woman like Janet. She puts her heart and soul into every fuck. And each one is a distinct masterpiece.

I never figured out whether she was an Olympic class sexual athlete because her passions overwhelmed her. Or whether she is simply driven to be the absolute best at everything female. But the woman could fuck you in more interesting ways than Catherine the Great.

In bed, her only aim was to get in touch with every aspect of her sexuality. And it wasn't like she wanted to evolve into that slowly. She wanted to do it all in one night.

She had no boundaries and endless stamina. Sex is hard physical exercise. And many of the women I have bedded eventually get worn-out. But Janet would just keep going and going, without the slightest loss of enthusiasm.

On nights like that we would doze off when she couldn't get Old Lucifer out to the starting line for one more lap.

Fortunately the next day was a Saturday. Some people garden, or fish, or play golf on the weekend. We like to sail.

We keep a C&C Cruising 40 at the Washington Marina and we usually take it for weekend trips down the Potomac and out into Chesapeake Bay.

Janet is a great sailing partner and with the power assists we can handle any destination by ourselves.

There is nothing more romantic than sitting anchored in one of the inlets, watching the summer sun set over the Chesapeake and enjoying blue crab and a cold bottle of Pinot Grigio.

And there is nothing cozier than lying cuddled under a blanket in the cockpit of our boat, watching the stars and talking about a million things.

Of course that has always inspired Janet to make the boat rock frantically most of the night.

Janet is not just my wife. She has always been my best friend and closest companion. And to say I loved her would be a gross understatement.

----

The University started a major fund raising drive that fall. That cut short our sailing.

Janet began to take three day trips to the major population centers. Normally members of her staff would do the wining and dining. And she would do the actual "asks."

But this campaign was a big deal. So she was expected to go along with her troops in order to communicate the University's commitment to the process.

That was alright with me since I was also involved in some stuff with NCTC in McLean. All of that was taking up more time than either of us wanted. In fact, the hour requirements for me were almost like I would have with an honest job.

They were planning to wind up the campaign in New York in mid-March. That was going to be a four day extravaganza because there are so many of our alumni in the greater New York City area.

Janet was standing in our bedroom reviewing the contents of her roller-bag. She looked like she was trying to decide whether she had packed everything. I was checking her out as I was standing in the door.

She is a beautiful woman. But when she is made-up for public consumption she is something special.

She is medium height and her long raven hair was tied up in one of those sophisticated pony tails that really stylish women adopt.

It made her look intimidatingly sleek and business-like and with that gorgeous face, huge boobs and perfect little body she was a sight to behold.

When I came up behind her she was chewing on her lower lip, like she was trying to decide something.

I said cheerfully, "All packed?"

She jumped like I had startled her and then relaxed and leaned back into me. Her firm soft buns pushed against my rapidly growing interest.

She said almost wistfully, "Have you ever wanted to just chuck the whole thing and become beach bums on St. Lucia?"

I said lightly, "The boat's gassed up and ready. Want to leave now?"

She turned and put her arms around my neck and looked at me intently. It was like she was trying to memorize my face... Odd reaction.

Then she smiled brightly and said, "As soon as this campaign is over I am going to take you to some deserted island and ravish you like Henry Morgan sacking Panama. Count on it."

At that point she kissed me with a stunning amount of passion.

I was thinking of starting something but we both had a place to be. She was taking a cab down to Union Station to grab the Acela and I had a meeting over at the NCTC with a couple of gentlemen from a little Company in Langley.

For a change 66 wasn't at a total dead stop so I got over there and got my business done much sooner than I expected. It was only 1:05 and I knew that Janet's train wasn't scheduled to leave until 2:15.

I had time to surprise her. So I shot down the GW Parkway and across the Potomac on US1 to E Street and over to Union Station. It was the middle of the day and I was parked and crossing the upper gallery promptly at 1:55.

I bought a bouquet from the flower seller next to the escalators. I was planning on giving her a little spontaneous send-off. I just wanted to let her know how special she is to me.

I know that was a silly romantic thing to do. But our jobs had kept us apart far too much over the past six months.

I was coming up to the boarding area for the Acela when I saw her pulling her roller bag along toward the first class car. She was absolutely radiating confident femininity. I thought to myself, "God! That woman is hot!"

I couldn't go down the platform without a ticket so I stopped at the gate. "Damn! Just missed her!!"

Then an odd thing happened. As I was watching her stride along, she reached out and took the arm of the tall man who was walking next to her.

It was an intimate gesture, like the two of them were more than just fellow travelers. It made no sense.

When they turned to board I saw that it was Todd Breckenridge. Todd is the Vice President for Advancement and Janet's boss.

Basically, he is the University's marketing and sales manager. I thought to myself, "That's really strange. If he was going up to Manhattan with her you would think that she would have mentioned it?"

I knew Todd from events that I had gotten dragged to. I found him to be way too slick and arrogant.

He always seemed to condescend to us faculty types. It was like he thought that we didn't know what the real world was like. Which was only fair because I condescended right back.

He might be a good looking, and very self-assured preppie, but he wasn't that bright. And I consult in counter-terrorism. So I have a clue.

I knew Janet had to interact with him at work. But I got the impression she thought he was a jerk.

Todd was in the process of helping Janet into the car and handing her the bag. I did not like the way his hands lingered possessively on her as he did it.

I walked back to the parking structure with mice nibbling at my brain stem. I was a little disturbed that she had not mentioned that she was traveling with Todd.

It made perfect sense that he would accompany Janet on this trip. This was the grand finale of an important campaign.

I just wish she had mentioned it to me.

Of course maybe her forgetfulness was due to the fact that the asshole is a well-known cock-hound. His wife kicked him out for his philandering and he has relentlessly hit on everybody with a dress since then.

Maybe she thought that I would worry less if I didn't know that she would be in a strange town with that predatory fucker.

In that respect, I could understand why she kept it from me. I was suffering pangs of jealousy just at the thought of what I had seen on the platform.

It bothered me enough, that I gave my buddy Eddie a call.

Eddie; not Edward, or Ed, is the VP for IT at the University. He operates in the same circles as Todd and Janet. I wanted to get his take on their relationship.

We met for a beer at Martin's Tavern, which is down the street from where I live. In its 75 years, a lot of political deals have been cut and covert information passed at Martin's. This was one of those times.

Eddie is a laid-back kind of guy. He is in charge of a big budget at the University and you might expect him to be a cold blooded bureaucrat. But by origin, he is a West Virginia good-old-boy.

And he is as country as a misty holler in the morning.

He is also about six foot seven so he stood out when he came in. I motioned him over. I had a pitcher in front of me and poured him a mug.

He looked quizzical, sat and drawled, "John, ain't seen you in a coon's-age. Why now?"

Did I mention that he plays hillbilly right to the hilt?

I got directly to the point. I said, "I was wondering about Janet and Todd Breckenridge."

He knew them both very well, because he sat in a lot of meetings with the Advancement side of the organization.

He stopped and pondered something in his unhurried southern manner. It looked like he was trying to carefully frame the thing he was about to say.

He drawled, "Waaaall, they have been a lot friendlier of late. He's a pussy hound fur-sure and it looks to me like he is barking up her tree. She ain't given him anything as far as I can see. But he keeps tryin and he IS her boss."

I did my best to not look as stricken as I felt.

I said, "So let me get this straight. Breckenridge is putting a full court press on Janet. And she can't outright tell him to get lost because he's her direct superior. Is that what you are telling me?"

He looked at me with his shrewd salt of the earth expression and said, "Yep! That's what I'm tellin ya."

We killed the better part of the evening talking about nerd things.

We all play parts when we are with other people. It's the way we filter how others perceive us.

When it comes to playing West Virginia redneck, Eddie might be slightly more over-the-top than Jed Clampett. But his doctorate is from MIT. And his expertise is in my field. So we had a few things to talk about.

I walked back to the house in a beautiful April evening feeling very ill at ease. I had seen them together and Janet didn't look like she was putting up any barriers between her and the dude.

In fact, if you had seen the two of them walking to the train you would have gotten the impression that she was with him as a couple.

She had made numerous fund raising trips over the past six months. I wondered how many her boss had made with her.

It was perfectly reasonable for the most important guy in the Advancement area and his second in command to travel together to the final event in the campaign.

But the situation was far too convenient if hanky-panky was on the menu.

It was late enough in the evening that it was time for my call. I dialed Janet's cell and she answered right away. She was as bright and loving as always.

I said, "Hello my love. Time to tuck you in for the evening."

She giggled and said "Why don't you come up here to Manhattan and tuck me in properly?"

I said, "I would love to but you have work to do. I'll just have to settle for doing that as soon as you get home and for the rest of your life." She giggled again.

I was going to mention Breckenridge but it just didn't seem right. I would sound like a jealous weenie whining about her boss being there.

More importantly, I had reached the point where I wanted to investigate the situation further so I didn't want to tip her off.

Suspicion is an insidious disease. Once you catch it you never really get over of it. Suspicion also makes you do sneaky things. I was suddenly dying from a bad case of misgiving. And I had to find the cure.

As a first test, I dialed the hotel and asked to be connected to her room. I would make it sound like an afterthought. That is, if she answered. But the phone rang for an eternity.

I tried again an hour later. Same result. It didn't prove anything. She might still be working. But there was another explanation. THAT was sending shivers up my spine.

I was in panic mode. Nevertheless, I am still a little ashamed of what I did next. My only excuse is that I had to find out. And finding out was so ridiculously easy.

Thanks to the new generation of malware, you don't need to sneak around to spy on somebody. Malware makes old-fashioned bugging and video cameras just so dreadfully 1990s.

She was 200 miles away in Manhattan. But, what I planned to do would make me the invisible man in her room. And I would never leave the convenience of my desktop while I was doing it.

I crafted a routine e-mail to Janet. It said, "Can you take a look at this contract when you get a chance? I need your opinion by tomorrow. What do you think?" And attached a pdf with a copy of a consulting contract that she knew I was trying to get signed.

Janet is the money person. So she would be the right family member to deal with contracts. She and I had already talked about the terms of the engagement. All she had to do was look the contract over for me.

And since Janet is a fundraiser, not a computer geek, she would never notice the extra 20 megabytes of something very nasty that she was downloading.

Those additional lines of code were a piece of mischief that I had picked up from my friends at the George Bush Center.

The virus is known colloquially as Flame. It has been in the wild for a couple of years but I had the weaponized version. The one that a certain nation state dropped on the Iranians.

Flame is one of about 100,000 reasons why the internet has entirely changed the realities of our world. Especially when it comes to personal privacy.

In essence I sent my purportedly innocent wife a spy program that would turn her laptop into my own remote surveillance device.

In essence, I would be standing wherever her laptop was. And I could observe everything that went on within the range of its camera and microphone. That trick took nothing more than a click of my mouse.

------

She didn't do the download and response until late the following afternoon.

In that respect, her return email told me that I now owned her computer.

I activated the virus as soon as I saw that it was enabled. The picture and sound came up like I was standing in the room.

Most people staying in a motel room keep their laptop open on the ledge on the wall across from the bed. That ledge is an architectural staple in every hotel room in America, since it also holds the TV.

Her laptop happened to be on, although I could have turned it on if I had to. Its orientation was focused on the bed.

How wonderfully fortuitous...

I was now watching her room live and in real-time. I could hear the shower running. Then Janet walked past the camera and sat down to dry her hair.

She was completely nude. As she reached up with the towel those magnificent breasts stood out proudly in 720p high definition. Water was dripping off her big sexy brown nipples.

She said teasingly, "Wow!! That was some shower!"

A male voice out of range of the camera to its left said, "That only got me started." And Breckenridge, walked past the camera.

He was dripping too. He stopped and stood in front of her naked. The boner he was sporting definitely looked ready.

Every warning bell and claxon in my brain went off simultaneously!! I actually shouted, "What the fuck is he doing there??!" Of course she couldn't hear me.

The answer was agonizingly obvious. She said in the "fuck me" tone of voice that she only uses when she is really turned on, "Here lover, let me take care of that." And she swallowed his sword.

He groaned loudly, and grabbed the back of her wet head. Up to this point I had thought that I was the sole beneficiary of one of Janet's blow jobs. She is a master of the art and I knew what he was feeling.

Her moaning and bobbing around his cock killed me. It totally blew up my heart. My systems flickered and then came back on line.

I needed to do something. So, I dialed her number. I didn't do it because I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to see if she would respond to my call.

She was working on his shaft like it was a hot day and it was a cool Popsicle.

She stopped the enjoyment noises that she was making and glanced down at the phone when it rang, confirmed it was me and hit the decline button.

Then she went back to fallating the shithead like his cock was the only source of oxygen in the room.

Seriously???!! I was done watching. I set the thing to record.

Most of you have probably had events in your life that are so incredibly shocking that you can't process them. Things like the death of a loved one, or an unexpected firing, or discovering that the woman you loved and expected to grow old with is a cheating whore.

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