Trust Issues

I decided that I needed a new start in life. I talked to the owner of the event planning firm that I work for and leveled with her. I told her that I would be leaving town and asked if she would give me the good recommendation that I deserved. She did me one better.

"Allegra if you'll finish up with the Martin wedding I'll let you live in one of our corporate suites until it's done, in five weeks. I'll talk to my contacts in the city you expressed interest in going to and instead of just giving you an excellent reputation will get you a job there. I'll also refer you to the attorney who handled my sister's divorce who did a great job for her."

I actually burst into tears. "I can't thank you enough, Madeline," I somehow got out between tears.

Greg was not a happy man when he got back from his trip and I told him that I was leaving him because he refused to see a shrink. "You can't go," he whined, "you cheated with Justin."

"No I didn't," I sharply responded. I then pulled out the video of my supposed "date" with Justin and despite Mary's admonition not to show it to him -- I no longer trusted her at all and considered her a quack -- and gave him a copy. "You'll be served Tuesday of the upcoming week. I'm leaving with my most important belongings today, Saturday; I'll get the rest of my stuff tomorrow and Monday. I've already taken half of our savings and I'll keep my car and 401(k). The rest of our joint possessions you keep. The divorce papers will have a quit claim deed for our condo. I'll be out of the city by Wednesday so all dealings will have to be through our attorneys."

Greg begged, cajoled, and even cried; it didn't move me. One thing he did not do was say that he would see a professional (NOT Mary Wilkerson) about his paranoia, which is the only possible thing that could have changed my mind.

***********

Three months after the Saturday that I had left Greg I was enjoying my new life. My new job was even better than my old one, and my co-workers were great. I had a nice condo that I got for a song given the connections of my new big boss, and I had joined a singles club that had many fun activities and joined a health club, both of which were target rich environments for when my divorce came through in three months.

My complaint against Mary Wilkerson was taken seriously by the licensing board, so even though I would never know the ultimate resolution because of privacy laws I was satisfied. I had no need to retaliate against Greg because he was mentally ill; I just hoped that he eventually got help. What did stick in my craw was Justin taking advantage of me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted revenge.

Justin has a big ego (including because he has a big dick) so he lapped it up when I started communicating with him by text and phone starting about three months after I had left town. I told him that I over-reacted to his seduction, and played coy. For some reason he was really interested in hooking up with me again. "You were my best piece of ass ever," he wrote in one text with several ridiculous emojis following the words. I really didn't think that I was his best piece of ass ever, but who knows with a player like that -- and since I didn't have a clear recollection of the first two fucks maybe in my stupor I was better than ever.

After two months of leading him on he started asking about taking a trip together. That's when I formulated my plan. I told him that I had an International event -- in Singapore -- for a big American company and that I would be able to stay over for a week after the event. Playing up to his inflated ego I told him that he was my best experience ever (not true, of course) and that if he travelled there I would make sure that he returned with a smile on his face. I even told him that I'd pay for the hotel since I was getting three nights free anyway for hosting many of the attendees there.

He fell for it hook, line, and sinker, especially when I sent him photo-shopped pictures of me ostensibly in Singapore showing the luxury hotel that I was supposedly staying at while prepping for the conference.

Of course I was never going to Singapore; I just wanted for him to have the disappointment, and the expense of time and money, to get there for nothing.

My divorce had gone through and I was dating a local attorney (Brad Pointer) with the best firm in my new city who was only a couple of years older than I was. I was VERY pleased with how well we clicked as a couple both in and out of the sack. I was glowing with the satisfaction of my new found love when my fake vacation with Justin started.

Actually Justin's malaise turned out to be crueler than I intended. The moron actually brought some marijuana in his suitcase when he flew to Singapore. Apparently he never investigated what Singapore was like; it probably has the toughest drug laws of any civilized country.

I was informed of Justin's predicament when someone from the American consulate in Singapore called my cellphone two days after Justin was due to arrive. She told me about his arrest at customs and wondered why neither she nor Justin could get ahold of me at my hotel. When I told her that I wasn't in Singapore, and never had been, there was silence at her end of the line. After a long pause she told me that if Justin was convicted that he'd spend ten years in a Singapore prison -- not a nice place.

I asked her how he could beat the rap. "The only time that ever has happened was when I got a legitimate notarized affidavit from someone who admitted to putting drugs in another person's suitcase as a joke, and I got the prosecutor to drop the charges."

I thanked her for her call, got her contact information, and then sat at my desk with my head spinning.

That weekend I was moving in with Brad -- there's no reason to pussy foot around; when it's right, it's right. After any stuff that I wanted to bring to his detached four bedroom house was moved in I sat him down at his kitchen table and told him what happened with Justin.

"I really wanted to screw with him because of him taking advantage of me; but I didn't want him to spend ten years in a Singapore prison even though it was his fault alone that he brought the marijuana," I sighed.

At first Brad laughed. When he saw that I was distraught and I then told him what the consulate employee had told me he apparently had a Eureka moment. "If I handle this what will you do for me?" he snickered.

"I'll be your sex slave for a weekend," I replied.

"Not enough -- an entire week at a resort. You do everything I say and anything I want," he chuckled.

"You bastard," I laughed. We had a staring contest for a few minutes and then I said "OK."

"Just leave it to me," he smiled. Then we broke in his kitchen table, and later his bed; we both were very passionate!

We didn't talk any more about Justin.

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

It's now three months after Brad and I had the discussion about getting Justin out. He ended up with two months in a Singapore prison, but was then freed with certain stipulations -- including that he would never try and contact me again. The consulate official who I had talked to earlier confirmed it. When I told Brad he got a big smile and said "I know, and I can't wait!"

Brad and I are spending our third night with me being his sex slave at a nearby five star resort. He's already fucked me every way that I thought was humanly possible and earlier tonight he made me go to dinner in the resort's best restaurant with no bra or panties, a low cut blouse, and a skirt so short that when I sat down anyone who could see under our table -- which Brad had the waiter remove the table cloth from -- could see my cum-leaking pussy. I was never so embarrassed in my life.

As I finish this sentence the bastard is calling me into the bedroom. "I need a back rub, and then would like my balls sucked," the bastard laughs. I pretend to be morose and resigned but he's smart. He probably knows that I'm loving it! (cackle, cackle)