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Assumptions

By: mared



She watched him stride in, strong and confident. It had been a while since she had seen his face, his movement. Nothing now spoke of the boy she'd had those five months ago. Walking toward her was not the pliable submissive she had watched grow under her teaching hand, he was now was just a man. She wondered what had made him so estranged to her after they had parted ways.

Rising slowly from her chair she hailed him, her hand flickering briefly in the afternoon air. Silence hung between them as each step carried him closer. When the distance seemed only enough to press the current tight against her breasts she looked up through long lashes and let a smile slip along her full lips. 

"Wallace my boy, it's been ages," opening her arms a little she offered a hug in greeting. He declined and took but one of her hands, turning it so the pale back showed and bent, pressing a tender warm lipped kiss upon it.

"It seems like forever, Ma'am." 

"My you haven't forgotten your manners." She felt the blush before she saw it register in his eyes. "Please sit, Wallace."

He waited a moment and she took it as a cue for herself to fold into the iron chair first. Only after she had herself firmly planted down, he took his place, to her left. She distantly fantasized about the past. Releasing a sigh she turned her doe brown eyes upon him and let the smile fly back into her expression.

"You're probably wondering why I asked you here, Ma'am. After all this time." He watched her face intently, his eyes seeming darker from her memory, for any clue of surprise or confusion. She kept both from showing, and only responded with a slight nod of her head. "Well, I would like to be yours again. That's if… you will have me." 

This time she couldn't contain the shock and openly displayed it. Darting her tongue out she wetted her lips before answering, her mind picking her words carefully. "What makes you think, that I would take you back, boy, after you left?" 

His head bent down as his quiet answer drifted up to her ears, "Ma'am, as due with the contract that was agreed upon by the two of us my time with you was up. Seeing as you didn't ask me to renew the time period under your care I felt that it was time to leave, that you were either mad at me, or that you wished to train another instead of keeping me. My assumptions were foolish and so I have spent this time debating with myself, and have so decided to find you, and ask you."

"I see. You did not think to stay around after the contract was up to see what I would do. So now you and I are here." She leaned in, letting her finger bring his chin up, watching his face. Her smile was placed strategically so that he could not read the happiness behind it. "Well boy, I give you credit for coming out here----"

He pushed away quickly and stood up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his light jacket, " I knew it… I shouldn't have come here, you have someone else… or…or…. You just…." She looked up after he threw the first accusation, feeling the scowl bend her features before she could stop it. Taking note of the unshed tears that made those eyes bright she sighed and shook her head slowly.

"Shut up boy. Did you really loose all knowledge of what I taught you." Jerking the chair back she stood and in one movement her hand grasped the front of his jacket pulling him closer, her breath washing over his lips. "I was about to say, why the hell didn't you do it sooner. Now if you are done throwing assumptions around like an idiot I will bring you to my apartment. There will be no contract this time. You belong to me, wholly, understand boy?"

"Yes," he looked down at her then turned his head to the right. Watching, her fingers twitched when a shock of his brown hair fell over an eye, but resisted.

"Yes, who?"

"Mistress, yes Mistress."

She smiled wickedly, shaking her long auburn locks over her shoulders. Hooking a finger in the collar of his jacket she spun around and marched to her car, pulling him behind her. It felt good to have him in tow again, like a little pet dog coming home after being lost in the woods too long. She was going to enjoy this night immensely.

As the doors slammed shut she sped her way home, her mind swimming with unasked questions of her newly found again boy. Gnawing on her bottom lip she plied the brake in front of the building she rented out of. The place was a nice three bedroom for fifteen hundred a month. The rooms were well sized, and the space therein large enough to equip her with a very nice and tasteful play area. Although the equipment saw little play she was giddy with the thought of using it now. Leaning back she waited for him to open her door; he wasn't slow to step to it, falling into his old routine. She had felt like a fish without water when he wasn't around.

Crooking her finger, she led him again by the collar of his jacket up the three flights of stairs and down a never-ending corridor to her place. Handing him the keys with an subtle incline of her head he hopped to it, pushing the door in but making sure not to set foot onto the white carpet. Moving around him, she let her fingers trail over his abdomen, feeling him tense. He reacted just the same.

Pivoting around her hair flew into her eyes a moment before settling around and down her back. Her eyes watched his form as he folded to his knees, his tight jeans pulling around his sex. Smiling that feral smile of hers she leaned on the frame, crossing her arms, her dark eyes tracing his movement as he straightened his shoulders, and raised his chin.

"May this one enter, Mistress?"

"Yes you may boy." He dropped forward on his hands and crawled in, and under her guiding hand through the living room, down the hall and through the frame into the playroom. With one last smack she left him for a moment to fetch a box that had been waiting on a shelf since he left her care the first time. "Come."

He moved with that smile command, exactly like a puppy would to his mistress. Smiling she opened the box, and showed him the collar there within. 

The one and a half inch thick leather collar lying silently in the velvet that padded the inside of the jewelry box. Taking it out slowly her eyes knew what he was seeing, the simple d-ring in the front and the metal plate with 'Mistress Red' printed in old English print on it. Turning it slowly her fingers felt the tiny chain that trailed from that plate to the back where the buckle lock was open and ready. 

"Boy, do you except this collar, a token of my love for you?" she waited quietly, watching the emotions shift through his gaze.

"It would be my honor, Mistress." And he lifted his neck high, letting her slip the leather around his neck, the cold leather tickling his senses. Then with a loud click she press the lock shut.

"Then boy undress… You need to learn that making assumptions makes an ass out of yourself, and others."

Wallace's gulp was audible but he did what she asked, shedding his jacket, folding it before placing it next to him. Stripping off the white t-shirt beneath revealed to her, that he had been working out since they last saw one another. It joined the pile as his fingers pushed the button of his jeans back through the hole that captured it. Stepping out of the comfort of them he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers and they followed the same path his pants just took. 

He was standing erect, her simple commands effecting him so in that way still, that she couldn't help but smile happy he retained some of her training. Walking around him thrice she let her fingers drift absently up and down, pausing as they went over his ass. 

"Now, boy, all fours."

He dropped; his kneels making a thud against the cedar flooring that she had put in there for that very fact, she loved hearing her little ones actions.

"Spread those legs…" she watched as he did so, his butt rising up little by little as his back arched to sustain the all fours position. Smiling she gave him an affectionate smack on that offered part of his body. "Good, now the reason I have you here is?"

"Mistress, this boy made assumptions about himself and his situation with you." He wiggled a little hoping his answer got him another affectionate swat.

"I believe you forgot something boy."

He swallowed; she saw his Adams apple quiver, "And about yourself and your situation, Mistress."

"Good" she picked out a nice lightly studded paddle, drawing her hand back she let it fall flatly against his ass, watching the impact push his skin back then out in a rebuttal to the force she used. His gasp and squeak caused her wicked little smile to appear upon her red lips again. "Do you know what I do to little boys who make assumptions?"

"No, Mistress."

The smile broadened quietly as her fingers picked up a butt plug adorned with a long tail, the tip of it shaggy while the rest resembled a rope. It was gray in color. Dropping it in front of his eyes, she saw his back become ridged as the knowledge filtered into his brain.

"Well, what better is it, than to make an ass out of the boy that make an ass out of me." She saw the nervous shiver twist down his spine then in one swift motion she rammed the plug into place, feeling his ass grip it but his shout of pain re-tort the fact he let it in so unwillingly. She watched his posture fall a little and then fingered the tail, letting it drop, the tug pulling the plug painfully in his virgin hole. "Looks good on my little donkey…don't speak boy, for from this moment until I say otherwise you are a mule, and they do not speak, they bray. Do you understand?"

She watched him a moment debate whether he was up to being hers again, then it seems his conscious got the better of him and he opened his mouth. A long slow he-haw came out, and he arched his back again.

"Good my little jackass. Very good." 

Wallace's slow bray drifted to her ears again, and she smacked his ass again, the tail pulling under her hand. The wince wasn't as noticeable as before but it was there. Shaking her hair out of her eyes she paces around to the front of him, studying his body. The way his penis hung ridged between his legs. He didn't fit the part of a donkey yet.

Taking up the lead that was meant for a horse she clips it into the d-ring of his newly acquired collar. Smiling wickedly she led him around the room, on hands and knees, listening to his hands pound almost too softly against the boards. Stopping him by her rack of interesting shoes she picks up the ones a fitted with horseshoes. 

"Right foot, donkey," she waited as he extended his right leg. Slipping the shoe on she saw him peeking over his shoulder at her. Licking his own lips as she buckled it into place, tightly. "Left." She didn't wait as long this time for him to extend his other foot. Doing the same she stepped back, the rope still firmly in her grip. "Rise." 

As he stood, the first resounding clop echoed dully in her ears. She watched the way the tail swung and Wallace clamp his anus tight around the plug. She was so proud of him but she wouldn't let that show. 

Tugging the lead rope again she moves along, letting him get used to the weight of the new shoes, getting subtle thrills each time the clopping sound doubles over the other foot. On her second pass by the switches she reaches out and idly grabs the willow one, swinging it in front of her a moment, listening to it sing as it slices the air. She heard his soft grunt, and felt the lead draw taunt in her grip for a second.

Slowing him to a stop before her mitts rack she taps with the switch the matching front hooves. Obediently he puts them on, resting on his front hooves to let her buckle them tight. When done she surveyed him again, he had let his hands drop to his sides. 

"No, no, this just wont do…if you are to be a suitable jackass for me you must bare your hooves high." the switch zipped through the air, and caught his right upper arm, then his left, all before he could think, his hands coming up to try to protect his chest, "Good, this is the position they will be in, and to make sure that you do not drop them again, I will make sure you cannot move them." 

Tying the lead to the rack she walked to find a nice bit of leather binding. Sauntering back, Red loops the first end around his right arm, the closest to her, and then loops it tightly around his upper body, the leather digging violently into his skin, causing it to pucker between where the leather lay. Twisting it around his wrists she makes sure they pressed close to his chest, and makes her hands hang over them. Giving him another snap with the switch he struggled to try to get out of the binding, she didn't stop him until after the fifth try, his expression getting frantic as he couldn't extend nor could he get the hair from his eyes. She swapped him again, harder, raising a welt along his back, the center puckering with a tint of red.

"Stop jackass," he whimpered, which got him another hard swap, the contact of wood and flesh ringing in their ears. Letting her striking hand down to her side she watched the unshed tears of pain glitter in the corner of his eye. Smiling a little crookedly, Red walked him again, the clomping of the hooves like a song to her ears. Jerking his lead she stops him for the last time. The open closet door revealed a multitude of clothing and accessories. 

Searching within the depths of the closet she withdraws the two pieces of the final touch. The first she placed on him, was a chastity belt, there was a hole in the back especially made for the tail he wore. Slapping the inside of his thighs making him spread them she slips the belt around his erect shaft, watching his wince of pain as she cinched the belt tight. The flat leather didn't give so much as a bulge to disclose that he had anything behind it. Twisting back around she raises the head for him to survey.

Turning it every which way in her pale fingers she marks his fear in his eyes. For this long he hadn't spoken other than a soft bray now and then. He was playing his part, but this little contraption would render his vocals to only that. First, Red brought it over his head, fitting the cock shaped gag into his mouth, letting him move it around until his lips here comfortably pressed around it. Then she closed it around his head. The front of the gag jutted out like a muzzle of a horse, and buckled in the back. She made sure it was a tight fit. Then the last touch was the ears. They were attached to the whole thing but were meant to slip over his ears, using them to support themselves up.

Two steps back she stared at her donkey boy. A tiny laugh escaped her throat although she didn't want it to. He looked pathetic, but regal all the same. Pulling on the lead again she made him walk, letting him get used to the front line of sight with the gag on. Then she picked up the pace, jogging beside him. 

Swiping the wicked willow branch against his calves she left red cuts, but urged his legs to jump rise higher and higher with every step. She laughed evilly when she stopped him, out of breath and slightly bleeding. 

She knew Wallace didn't think that she would do anything else, but to his horror she was just as mean as ever. Walking him down that hall he had been spanked up before, Red threw open the front door and drew him outside. There he was made to walk like she had just made him inside. Red led him with that evil splinter following in his wake. 

As they reached the street the first curious person came up and smiled, knowing Red and her work obviously. He felt so ashamed and hung his head. That awarded him a hard whap, drawing a loud grunt from his throat. 

She announced to any who asked as they walked that this was her little jackass. Handing over the switch he felt whap after whap. Repeatedly they let it kiss his flesh, heated with an embarrassed flush. It was more than he could bear. 

Jerking back on the lead he was only rewarded with a swipe, and a growl. He brayed loudly, detesting the sound in his mouth, bucking on the line that led him ever onward, prancing beside or behind her like some freak of nature. Everyone thought it was the neatest thing. 

It was only when she led him home that he felt the briefest of relaxation. Wallace couldn't understand why she was so hard on him. But she knew, her mind worked over everything, and planned it out. She was loving all the praise of her little donkey. If it wasn't a punishment she might have let him out of the head harness to have a drink but then again it wasn't leisure, she didn't know if he would do this as just play. 

Her laughter brought another hail from across the walkway of her apartment complex. Raising her dark eyes she laid them on Aaron, Master to a beautiful angel. She had met them at the local club her first few weeks in town. Drawing her pet behind her she strode over.

"Who's this?" His eyes went over Wallace then back to her.

"This is my donkey, Wallace," on his cue he brayed long and hard, leaning forward slightly offering out his muzzle. Chuckling, Aaron patted his head before returning his gaze back to her.

"I did not know you had a donkey."

"I didn't before today," she turned her wicked little smirk on Wallace, watching the whites of his eyes show with fear. 

"And does Wallace deserve this?" Aaron's question caught him off guard and he made a muffled response. 

Her eyes narrowed on him and her growl was fierce and pronounced. From his own mouth he condemned himself again. For his mumbled response was 'no'. With a twitch of her wrist the switch bore down. 

Lick after lick he screamed behind the gag, feeling the burn jump from cut to cut, the whizzing of the little device drowning out by them. She led him back that way, body under siege of the torrent of pain, in through her door. 

Pausing the on slot only long enough to get the belt off of him then started it all over again. The tip not even being seen with the quickness of it, only the horrible shushing sound and a red welt that had small beads of blood puckering up through the tenderized flesh. 

With a final twist of her wrist, he screamed loudly, the switch coming down to lick down the top of his dick, there was no more exquisite pain that this, and when the branch came up from the underside and licked his balls he fell to his knees before him. Tears drifting down his cheeks.

Breathing heavily, Red tossed her hair back and dropped the lead on the ground. With a snort she looked at him. "You are a donkey until tomorrow, boy. You've let your control go, you are not fit to sleep by me." 

He brayed for her, trying to apologize. She didn't even regard it. As she looked she saw cut upon cut, bruised flesh and the wild look in his eyes. That look said it all. She had her boy back. 

"By the by my jackass. Welcome home."

Assumptions



This story, unlike many of my others, is completely fictional. It derives from my story, "Rebecca," but only in that I received requests for a sequel, a Part II, or whatever. I release my stories when I consider them finished; but this seemed a good subject to take from a similar starting point, through a completely different plot, and end in fresh, new territory.

It contains no sex.

Things are a little confusing right now. I have decisions to make, some of them potentially life-altering, and mine is not the only life to which I refer.

I'm thirty-two years old, a CPA, and the father of two precious, precocious girls.

I am also raising them alone.

My story isn't so terribly sad, compared to the burdens others must bear. I'm thankful every day for all I have; I've suffered, and others have endured more. In short, it could be worse.

I married my college sweetheart, Ellen, the week after our mutual graduations. I'd majored in Accounting, she in Business Administration. Our life together was satisfying, sweetened by the arrival of our first child, whom my wife named Marcia, followed two years later by her sister Alexa.

Being parents suited us both. We'd both come from intact families, each of which overflowed with love and joy. There was none of the archetypal in-fighting you see lampooned in sitcoms.

Our families always gathered, all of us, both sides of the family, at special occasions. Easter, Memorial Day, the Fourth, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years' saw us all gathered in a throng, a sea of bodies, all happy chaos and whimsy and much, much hugging and kissing.

Then there was Ellen's funeral.

We gathered as an extended group, but there was laughter only at her memory, happiness only in our memories of her. She'd been taken from us by an uninsured drunk with seven DUI convictions and not a hint of a license.

There was no justice, not for her; the driver served a year, and was released, only to harm others later.

My impotent anger could have consumed me, might have consumed, pardon my immodesty, a lesser man. I had two children, though, and they needed me, needed for me to focus on them, on the future, on the big picture ahead.

Oh, sure, I got involved in MADD, and prison ministries telling inmates how drunk driving affects the survivors, and fund raisers and on and on. These things I felt compelled to do for Ellen's memory.

My first duty, though, was to my children, my angels, my little pieces of Ellen still left to me.

I saw to my girls' needs, putting them in the best school I could afford, showering them with my time and time spent in the company of relatives, teaching them to become independent young ladies. It was never my intent to deprive them of the memory of their mother, but rather to force them to become what she would have wanted. We were happy, the three of us as well as the extended family, an army of support.

++++++

Tamara, my best friend at work, sat on the edge of my desk. "How they hangin', big guy?"

I sighed. Tamara was like that. "We are okay, Tammie," I replied.

"I have a lady I think you'd like to meet," she offered. "Carlie, she's a lawyer and a tax expert. She's never been married, a little younger than you, sharp as a tack. I think you'd hit it off."

"Tammie," I said, "I don't want to be set up."

"Just meet her at some public spot. Make small talk. Take her to dinner, like, Johnny Carino's or something. See what you think," she said.

"I assume," I said, "you've got it all arranged?"

"Four-ish, Saturday afternoon, behind the Pavilion at the Westerly. Bring the girls! She's bound to love 'em."

I thought. What could it hurt? The girls loved going to the Westerly, a mall / entertainment area on the west end of town. "Okay," I said, after a pause.

She smiled. "She's your height, a tad plump but nothing awful, and she'll be wearing a purple scarf."

"You DO have it arranged," I fumed, without heat.

Tammie walked away, smiling.

++++++
 Saturday afternoon, I took my girls to the Westerly, accompanied by my cousin Betty. Three-fifty came and went; I was walking around with the girls, who seemed a tad bewildered, looking at the shops and grabbing a very late-afternoon (to my mind) Baskin-Robbins cone.

As we walked around the small pavilion, I noticed a woman roughly matching Tammie's description. We approached her cautiously.

"Carlie?" I said.

She turned to face me, then focused on the girls, and back to me. She held out a hand. "Jeff?"

"In person," I said, adding, "this is Marcia," I indicated my elder child, who proffered a hand, accepted, "and this is Alexa," and the process was repeated.

Carlie seemed a tad ill-at-ease, but walked with us back to where Betty was waiting. I handed the girls off to her, kissing each of them; I bussed Betty on the cheek, said, "I'll pick them up," and as they left, turned my attention to Carlie.

We ate at Carino's, as Tammie had recommended, driving to the location separately; and we had, to my perception, a successful date. We were roughly equivalent intellectually, and as went interests we were pretty well in sync.

The evening ended, as they alway do; and as I walked to our cars, she turned to me and said, "I really enjoyed myself..."

I felt the stretch at the end. "But?" I prompted.

"I just, I dunno, I have this thing about divorced guys. I mean, your kids were so sweet, but..."

My smile did not fade. "I think I get it."

She pushed on. "I'm so sorry, but I've dealt with ex-wives and all, and I can't do that again. Please, don't get me wrong, you're an awful lot of fun, but I think we should leave things as they are."

I said, "I thank you for a wonderful evening," got into my car, and drove away.

"Tammie," I muttered to myself, "stay outta my fucking life from now on."

I retrieved the girls; we went home, and as they peppered me with questions, I deflected them. "She was nice, girls, and that's that," I proclaimed.

++++++

Monday morning came. I was ready for Tammie to say a word, a fucking word, to me. I was pissed.

When she came into my cube, around ten-thirty, I was ready to let her hold it; then I noticed the ineffable sadness etched onto her face.

"Jeff," she said, "I'm sorry. I didn't now she'd run off like that."

"Yeah," I replied sharply, "you coulda mentioned to her I had kids. And she's not as friggin smart as you made out to me. She assumed I was divorced, and never asked me. Like, is she retahded or something?"

Tammie lowered her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Tammie?" I said. "You don't EVER play matchmaker with me again. You got that? NEVER. I will personally file a grievance against you. I love you, but you're a fucking busybody."

She repeated herself, and left my office. I'd probably lost a friend, and friends like that I did not need.

++++++

Three weeks later, on a Friday evening, I was busy in the kitchen fixing our family favorite Friday evening repast. The doorbell chimed, and though it broke a home rule, I called out, "Marcia? Can you get that for me, baby?"

"Okay," I heard her cheerful little voice call out. I heard the door being opened, I was desperately trying to get things into a state in which I could walk away for a few moments.

"Daddy! It's that lady!"

Lady? Was I expecting someone? "Well, invite her in. I'll be there in a second."

I placed the pork roast, pan and all, on an unused burner on the stove, removed my oven mitts, and walked into the living room.

There, to my surprise, stood Carlie.

"Hi, Jeff," she said softly, holding out a hand.

I took it, and replied, "Carlie, nice to see you. Please, have a seat." I gestured toward the sofa, where she sat. Marcia, little miss bold, sat right next to her; Alexa bounded up into my lap, as I sat in my recliner.

"I'd like to apologize for... things, and I wonder if it might be better, uh, alone?" she said, timidly.

I smiled lightly. "I have no secrets from my girlies. Well, no important ones," I said. "We can use euphemisms for the time being, but I'd rather not send them away."

"Okay," she said, wearing the same ill-at-ease look I'd seen before. "No one mentioned your, uh, situation. Only that you had two," she gestured with a finger, indicating the girls, "and were single."

"Which you concluded meant marital breakdown," I finished.

"What does that mean?" Alexa asked.

"It means they wanna talk grown-up stuff," opined Marcia.

Carlie and I both laughed, and the tension level dropped a few notches. I remembered dinner, and I didn't want to stay out of the kitchen long enough for things to ruin, so I said, "Let's continue this after dinner? If you'll join us, provided you like pork tenderloin?"

Carlie's face lit up. "I'll be delighted, if it's really not a problem. It's not like me to invite myself to dinner."

"It's really not a problem," I answered, hefting Alexa and plopping her on the ground, "but I need to get back into the kitchen. If you three can keep yourselves occupied for ten minutes, it'll be on the table."

There was a chorus of agreement. The womenfolk set the table while I finished whipping the potatoes and carving the pork. I set all the food on the table, served the plates, and sat.

I surveyed the table through unfocused eyes, just for a moment, and saw it surrounded by a family. A small wave of nostalgia washed through me; then it was gone, and we four had a splendid dinner. My girls and I always talk and laugh during meals; Carlie added a fresh voice, new stories and reasons to laugh.

Dinner was finally finished, and the kitchen returned to order. While dinner settled, we sat at the dining room table and played cards, as was our habit. Old Maid ruled the roost, though Fish was a close second. Carlie joined in enthusiastically, and again that feeling of family passed over me.

Finally it was time for baths. That's something I let the kids do themselves, thus freeing Carlie and me to sit and have our conversation.

"I can't remember a better evening," she said. "I cant help thinking I almost blew it."

"I understand," I said simply.

"You have a happy little home," she reflected. "And I can't make any excuses, I just assumed you... well, you know."

"Yes," I said. "You said you'd had trouble with exes before."

"Oh, yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've been involved, to one degree or another, with three divorced men, and their exes were anywhere from cold to hostile. I've been threatened several times. One, the last one, even flattened my tires. After that, I said enough."

I winced. I could see her point.

"Look," she said, "you're a great guy, and those girls are precious. I'm not here asking for a commitment or anything. I just want to know you'll give me another shot."

I smiled. "I think I can arrange that."

++++++

So here I am, in a relationship with Carlie. It's been three months. We've never yet indulged in intimacies, mostly because I won't bring that morality into my girls' lives. She understands, and is fine with that. Impressed, even, in a way.

She's a fine lady. The girls adore her. She'd be a fine mother figure, and she's already passed the rest-of-the-family test. Flying colors, I might add.

In short, I have some thinking to do.

++++++

Oh, by the way, Tammie and I kissed and made up. As my Dad said to me, I'll never have so many friends I can afford to lose one.



Assumptions



A man assumes a number of things when he gets married. I am no different in that regard.

I assumed that my wife loved me and only me. Wrong assumption number one.

When our vows said, "To death do us part," I assumed that my wife believed that wholeheartedly. Wrong assumption number two.

I assumed that when we said that our wedding rings signified our unending love for each other that my wife thought so too. Wrong assumption number three.

I assumed that when my wife said she was going to the gym that she went to the gym. Wrong assumption number four.

I assumed that when my wife said she was working late on an important project that she would be at the office. Wrong assumption number five.

I assumed that when my wife said she was going to be away with her work on a 'team building' weekend that she would be team building with her colleagues. Wrong assumption number six.

And the one that really broke my heart, I assumed that our three children were mine. Wrong assumption number seven.

As I said earlier I think I'm a typical male. I like sports, I like beer and I love my wife. We have been married for almost twelve years after going steady for a little over three years. Fifteen years I've known and loved that woman. I assumed many things that most men would take for granted. That was a mistake.

I will explain all of that soon but first a little about my wife and I. She is a tall, athletically built blonde who has just turned thirty-five. With her toned body and beautiful face she could pass for ten years younger. In fact we went to a bar not long ago and the barman asked to see her I.D. She was thrilled.

I am only slightly taller than her, standing at an even 6'. I am broad shouldered and look like a person who works with my hands. I do, but only at the weekends. I am a computer security analyst. I run my own business from home and work with businesses that need computer security. I work with small firms mainly but I am getting a reputation around town that I know what I'm doing.

All the assumptions I made began to crash and burn when my wife's boss called me at work one Friday. They needed to see if their network was as secure as they thought it was. I asked why he picked me and his reply was interesting. He said that he didn't trust some of the people in his company and suspected them of industrial espionage. 

He ran a small electronics firm who were in the running for a major defence contract. If it came to fruition he stood to make a lot of money. I believed him when he said that his network security was the key to the whole thing.

I asked him about the conflict of interest with my wife working there and he simply said that a few people might be burned if his suspicions proved correct. I must admit his reply made me wonder whether my wife was under suspicion.

I decided to take the job and went straight to work. My wife was travelling for work that weekend so I knew that I could work without fear of interruption. The kids were spending the weekend at my wife's parents place, as they usually did if she was away overnight as I often worked late. They loved it and so did their grandparents.

I knew a few of my wife's colleagues and believed I had enough knowledge of them to find a way into the system rather easily. Most people don't take network security seriously and I expected that this firm was no exception.

I decided to try with my wife's immediate superior simply because he was the one I knew best. She had worked at this firm since before we were married. So had he so it was logical that I knew him also.

I didn't much like him so I figured if I could embarrass him with his lax security then I could have a little fun along the way. He always seemed a little too 'familiar' with my wife. Whenever I mentioned it my wife told me I was being silly and that they were old friends who had worked together for a long time. 

Using a basic knowledge of their networking system I knew that if I could log into the system via a senior person then I could infiltrate the whole thing. As I expected it didn't take too long to find his password and user name. I didn't even need to use my encryption software for that. So I needed to decide what to get into first. 

I decided on his company email. That was easy so I challenged myself to find any personal email addresses he might have. Talk about stupid. He had emailed himself from two different personal accounts to his work email. He had obviously worked from home and emailed it to his work so he could collect it when he was in the office.

As I expected there were many work emails to and from my wife. He was an executive officer and she was his executive assistant. I looked at a few and got bored quite easily as they were all work related. I decided to look at his personal emails. 

The first address I looked at was a winner. It was a Hotmail account that was set up under a false name. It showed emails to and from a major competitor of his firm. This proved to me that there was something going on here.

I was also able to take a peek into his bank accounts because he had emailed those details to his spymasters. That was shock number two. He had a private Cayman Island bank account with millions in it. Wow - jackpot.

I copied as much as I thought necessary and prepared a package that I would show his boss on the Monday.

Many of his contact with his spymasters included references to a third party, a woman. It was obvious what he had planned. He was going to sell secrets to a rival company, make a quick fortune and ride off into the sunset with his woman on his arm.

His emails gave great detail about when and where he had met with the people who were paying him. The one thing I noticed was that it had been going on for many years. The earliest emails I found that referenced his illegal activities were from seventeen years ago. No wonder this business was still quite small. It had some great ideas but nothing seemed to come from them. But finally the boss was doing something about it by hiring me. I'm certain he had a few ideas that this was going on but the stakes had gotten much higher with the Department of Defence involved.

I catalogued the most damning emails and made a timeline to see when these things were at their peak. I'm sure the boss would see some sort of pattern. As I looked closely at these dates I noticed that quite a few referred to times my wife was away on team building exercises with the company, as well as times that she was away overnight.

My stomach tightened. I decided I was being paranoid. But to be sure I looked at my diary and cross-checked the dates in the emails with my wife's schedule. Many either directly matched or were around the time my wife was both busy at work and staying late or times she was travelling for her job. The tight feeling in my stomach worsened.

I had circumstantial evidence that my wife was involved but nothing concrete. I decided to check cell phone records. Once again my target made it easy for me. He still used the number that he got with his original phone. This meant that I could access all of his billing and call details from the last seventeen years, coincidentally the time he got his first cell.

And what interesting reading they made. Cross-checking dates and times with those in the emails I found a pattern. He rang the same number often around the dates mentioned. My heart sank. It was my wife's number. 

Still, it was circumstantial. She was his assistant so naturally there would be calls between them. But while he averaged one or two calls per week, around the dates in the emails the calls rose exponentially, to as much as five or six calls per day.

I needed a break. I went to the kitchen and made a coffee. I had a million thoughts going through my head. What was going on here? Did my wife's boss know something or were they merely suspicions? Did he deliberately choose me for this for any particular reason? I was really getting worried about what I would find when I delved deeper into this mess.

After about half an hour I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I decided to go for the other private email address. This would let me know one way or another. 

I hacked back into the system and opened the second private email address. The first thing I noticed was that there were thousands of emails. He'd had this address for many years and it seemed like he never deleted anything.

The second thing I noticed was that the emails were almost exclusively to the same person - my wife. My heart sank even deeper. While still circumstantial it was beginning to look bleak.

I took a deep breath and thought about a strategy. I decided to start from the earliest email and go from there.

The first email was dated about seventeen years ago. It was quite personal and described how he had enjoyed the sex that they'd had. Note that this was a couple of years before I had even met my wife.

By reading the emails it seemed that their affair was quite intense. He was married at the time but as I kept reading he divorced around the time my wife and I met.

What surprised me was that the affair continued after we met. She slept with him right through our courting and engagement. I remember she would see me at the weekends. We always had great sex. But it seemed she was having great sex during the week too.

I read an interesting string of emails around the time I asked my wife to marry me. She told him and he asked her what she wanted to do. He explained to her that he didn't want to commit to a second marriage but still wanted to see her. Her reply was chilling. She said that she would marry me and make sure that she would still see him.

As our wedding approached it seems that their affair became even more intense. In the week before she practically lived with him. She even fucked him on the morning of our wedding.

I was heartbroken. This was the woman I loved. My assumptions were wrong. She didn't love me at all but used me. I have no idea why. She had a perfectly good arrangement with him. Why bring a husband into it?

Reading on through their emails I found out why. She wanted his children but knew that he wouldn't marry her. One line from an email simply shattered me.

"Lover, I want your children. I'll make sure when I'm the most fertile I won't fuck him but only you. When I'm pregnant I'll fuck him a few times. He'll never know. And our children can have a stable home with the typical mom, dad and kids."

Tears rolled down my face. It seemed that I had been played for a fool for most of my adult life. I determined that I would get a DNA test on the kids just to confirm what I'd just read. That would have to wait because I needed to find out more.

I read emails from the time our first child was conceived. She had written to him that she was definitely pregnant and she hadn't has vaginal sex with me for about a month. I remember that there was plenty of sex but it usually ended in a blowjob or hand job. Then it became really intense fucking for a few weeks. Then she revealed she was pregnant. 

I thought that my child arrived a couple of weeks early but according to these emails she was right on time.

Horrified, I went to the time our second child was conceived. The same thing happened. And with the third it was the same too. Each time I thought they were born a couple of weeks early. I remember my wife saying that she had read somewhere that some women were like that; their babies were early each time but completely healthy.

I just accepted that. I assumed that she knew what she was talking about. All three of our kids were spitting images of their mother. They had her dark hair and facial features. She had an oval shaped face and our three daughters had exactly the same shaped face. Our friends always joked about the fact that they looked nothing like me. Now I knew why.

I spent the rest of the night cataloguing their affair. It seemed that it was still going on. In fact she was away with him this very weekend. It was going to make me a very happy man to reveal all I knew to their boss, as well as the authorities, on the Monday morning.

It seemed that her numerous visits to the gym weren't always that. Sure she went often but judging by the email correspondence I had discovered it was less than half the time I thought it was.

The same with her 'late meetings.' It seemed that none of these ever happened. In fact I read one email from very early in her career that showed that her boss didn't believe in out of hours meetings. She had fabricated the whole thing.

I slept all day Saturday and spent the Sunday making sure I had all the evidence lined up for a meeting with their boss on Monday morning.

I was heartbroken but determined to go through with my job and let the cards fall wherever they did. I realised that my wife and her lover had broken many laws with their industrial espionage and with the Defence Department involved it would be a Federal case.

My wife wasn't due home from her weekend of work until the Monday so I didn't have to confront her before I revealed all to her boss. Thank goodness for that because I have no idea what I was going to do.

When I arrived her boss saw my face and ushered me into his office. Before I spoke he said, "I'm sorry, but I think I knew that she was involved. I knew you would be thorough especially when you found out what I'd always suspected."

I looked at him and said, "My kids aren't even mine."

He looked at me and said, "I'm really sorry. I had no idea."

"They have been together since before we were married and just didn't stop. They've been ripping you off for a while too. Every time you were close to getting a plum government contract they conspired with your rivals to cheat you out of it. They have offshore accounts and are ready to go. When they stuff this contract for you they are planning to quit and live a life of luxury. One thing you need to do first is get the Feds to talk to their bank and freeze their assets.

He said then that he knew something was going on and just needed the proof. He had already spoken to the Feds and they were ready to pounce. He called his contact and said that he had the evidence they needed.

The Feds arrived thirty minutes later. I took that time to show him the depth of their deception. When the Feds arrived I showed them what I'd found too. Their cyber team would be able to access all of this for themselves so they were satisfied that they could move in and arrest them both.

My wife and her lover arrived that afternoon as expected. Unfortunately for them they were not arriving to any fanfare but to the waiting arms of the Feds who arrested them on the spot.

When they were confronted with the evidence they fell apart. They suddenly realised that their carefully laid plans had gone up in smoke.

I confronted my wife. "Just tell me one thing. Did you love me at all or was I just a convenient parent figure for your children?"

She wouldn't look at me so I continued, "I hope it was worth it. You do realise that because Federal Government contracts were involved that it is treated as spying? There's mandatory life sentences for that, you do realise that don't you? That means the rest of your life in jail. And guess what? Your kids will never see you again. I love them all as if they were my own and because of that they will never see their mother again."

She collapsed at that. I just walked away.

EPILOGUE

Sure enough, there was enough evidence to show that the two of them had manipulated contracts of over dozen cases. They were found guilty on all counts and were sentenced to consecutive life sentences for them all. They were whisked off to Federal prison. I attended every day of their court cases. That was the last time I ever saw her. I filed for divorce and was granted sole custody of the kids. They sort of understood what had happened and never saw their mother again. I learned to never assume.



Assumptions



"Hey, you're not the first guy to have a fight with his wife and end up closing this joint, but I do have to close. You haven't had much to drink the last hour, but you sure have stared a hole in that glass. You need to talk about anything?"

Doug Hawkins looked up from the dregs of a beer he'd been nursing in a corner of the bar for almost two hours. "Nah. I had a fight with the wife – same old, same old. I guess I'll head home and hope for the best."

"I think you're good to go, but drive careful like."

Doug had been here many times before: Skugg's Bar and Grille. Sandy had occasionally come with him for a dinner when neither of them wanted to cook, or just to get out of the house and have a drink somewhere. She knew he liked to go there to think too. There was no other place like it for miles.

Doug's head was scrambled after the argument with Sandy. She wanted a new house, a house that would be much larger, but leave them in debt for centuries and in a situation with little financial flexibility.

They had a nice house they'd owned for five years, having even bought at the low point in the housing market. Yes, it was small, and yes, they'd been shortsighted about having a house they could raise kids in.

There were deeper things in the argument too. She was vitriolic about his point of view, and she yelled at him – something she'd never done before in their ten years together. There was a frustration about his intransigence about their finances, and about when they could start a family.

Doug pondered his relationship with Sandy as he drove the four miles back to their house. Was this the end of their marriage? Would she even be there when he got home? Could they try to find a house they could afford; he'd at least try that. Could they start to have kids, but then she'd have to take time off of work and then there'd be childcare expenses and her lost income stream? This was such a hard time in their lives.

Sandy was so fiercely independent and opinionated; it'd be just like her to do something rash yet with a long list of rationalizations. Doug thought about how she should have been on the debate team; any point of view she took had to be the right one at all costs. She took no hostages, and usually she got her own way except on these two issues where he hadn't budged. He knew he frustrated her, but what could he do?

As Doug drove home, he thought about how they might make up. Couldn't there be a middle ground on the house issue? Sure they were cramped for space, and sure they wanted a baby, but they could add a couple of rooms onto the house they had, or pop out a dormer, or all sorts of things without the huge expense of a new home. If they did the right kind of addition to the house they had, he could even do a lot of the work and save a lot of money.

He sighed as he pulled into the driveway. Sandy's car was gone.

Inside on the kitchen counter was a note: 'Our paths may cross. Sorry to leave things in a mess this way. Sandy.' She had drawn a little heart next to her name. Did that mean she still loved him? He'd come to wonder whether there was any love left in their relationship.

Despite the late hour, he wanted to wait for her. He moved to the sink and washed the dishes piled up from their dinner – the dinner where the argument had started.

Doug thought about how she seemed to love her job at the bank more than him. She always raved about the work, and the people there. She'd even piqued his jealousy by talking about Matt Thornton – her handsome supervisor and one of the other customer service reps in her branch. They spent a lot of time together according to Sandy – training sessions, lunches, and coffee breaks. She always talked about how he was such a mover and shaker, a gentleman, and how he'd end up as head of the bank someday.

Doug sank into his big chair in the living room to wait for Sandy's return. He even thought about how they could make the room look larger if they bought some furniture that was more modern and not overstuffed, like the hand-me-downs they'd accepted from their two families. He tried to imagine the room with toys scattered all around too; this would be a comfortable place for a child to play.

A ray of sunshine crept across Doug's face, making him blink awake. Morning. The events of the previous night flashed back like a bad movie.

Had Sandy come home? He checked the bedrooms, and the garage, but there was no sign of her. Damn!

Doug showered, and dressed for work. He couldn't afford not to show up, despite how bad he felt inside. He had a good job, a few friends there including the owner of the computer repair shop. Computers didn't argue with you. They did what you asked until some piece of silicon or a magnetic disk did something wrong electrically or mechanically. You then replaced the errant part, and all was well again. Why couldn't humans be like that? Maybe some day he'd write a science fiction story like that.

He plodded along through the day, expecting that he'd have to find some way to apologize to Sandy, and to win her back about the house, having a baby, and all. He thought about calling her, but decided to let her stew about things. Maybe if they both thought about what had happened, a middle ground would emerge that they could both live with.

Doug wrapped up work about five-thirty and went home. Sandy's car still wasn't in sight. He wondered if she'd come home, but a look around inside showed no signs of her presence since he'd left that morning.

He fixed himself dinner, and by eight o'clock had started to worry a little. 

At nine, he called her friend Alice. "Hi Alice, this is Doug Hawkins. I'm sorry to bother you, but is Sandy there?"

"No, I haven't seen her since the weekend."

"We had an argument last night and she left to do some thinking about it, I guess. Look, if you hear from her, even if she doesn't want to talk to me, would you let me know. I'm starting to get worried about her."

Alice agreed, and so did Debbie and Sheila her other friends when Doug called them.

The night drifted by, and Doug again slept in the chair waiting for Sandy's return.

The next day after work, he made another round of phone calls to no avail. No one had heard from or seen Sandy.

The next morning, instead of going directly to work he went to the bank. Sandy had loved her job at the bank so much, he couldn't imagine her missing a single day there. There were days when she'd barely been able to move because she had some flu bug, but she'd gotten up and gone to work. She wanted a perfect attendance record, and to be known as someone who would do anything to be at work. One time, she'd admitted that she was trying to also impress Matt, her boss.

As he came into the large branch, he could instantly see that Sandy's desk was empty but neatly organized. He looked around, trying to spot her.

"May I help you?"

"Oh ... maybe. I was looking for Sandy Hawkins."

The woman was cautious, "She's not in yet; may I help you?"

"I'm her husband. I ... need to talk with her."

"Oh, dear. Well, she hasn't been in since Monday. Funny, but neither has Matt Thornton." She thought a minute and said, "Let me check whether they're off at some kind of training session."

The woman, whose nametag read Rene, went into one of the glassed in cubicles, and referred to her computer screen for a minute.

She came back into the open lobby area, "Mr. Hawkins, there are no training sessions going on this week, so I don't know what to tell you. Mrs. Rice is here, our branch manager; maybe she knows something."

She led him across the lobby to a nicer office that even had a door. She leaned in, "Mrs. Rice. This is Mr. Hawkins, Sandy's husband. He's looking for her."

"Come in, please. Have a seat." She smiled at him, and seemed genuinely happy to meet a family member.

Doug automatically sat, and the other woman left the two of them. She looked at him with an open question written on her face.

Doug started, "I'm looking for my wife, Mrs. Rice. We had a bit of a spat on Monday evening, and I went out to think about things. When I got home a couple of hours later, she was gone, and I haven't heard from her since, and now it's Thursday, and I'm wondering what to do."

The woman behind the desk softened, "Mr. Hawkins, I'm sorry we can't help you, but Sandy hasn't been in to work since Monday. We've been short handed too; I had to call in reinforcements from one of the other branches."

Doug thought to ask, "Michelle mentioned that Matthew Thornton is also out ...?"

Rice nodded, "Yes, and that's what made us so short-handed. He's been out all week. We've tried to call him, but to no avail. Well, if you find you wife, please ask her to let me know what she plans to do." She shrugged.

Doug rose, "I will. Thank you for your time." He obviously wasn't going to get any further information.

As Doug walked to his car, he thought, 'Damn. She's taken off with that guy. They've taken the car and gone somewhere. I'm screwed."

Hitting a psychological low point, his ego shattered at the obvious infidelity, Doug sat outside the bank for a long time, trying to think of next steps. He dismissed turning to the police; there was nothing there for them to do but commiserate with him about his failed marriage. Doug thought, 'I don't want to see it end. I still love her. We have to make a big effort to start over. I hope she hasn't done anything foolish to prevent that.'

He thought about their joint bank account. Would Sandy bleed him dry? Was she that mad about their relationship that she'd screw him over? He doubted it, but didn't want to trust that assumption.

Doug got out of his car, went back into the bank, opened an account in just his name, and moved most of the money in their joint account to the new one. He'd have to adjust his payroll check deposits, and figured he'd continue to pay for things as he always had. At least if she tried to spend anything, he'd know about it.

At work, he noted how terrible his productivity and problem solving abilities were.

Alan, his boss, came up, "Doug, what's wrong? You've been a little 'off' about everything all week."

Doug's eyes filled with tears. He felt the wash of the love he felt for Sandy, and the terrible hole left inside him by having her flee.

He described the situation to Alan. "Sandy and I had another fight on Monday night about money, and getting larger house. We want a family, but the little house we're in just won't support another person. Anyway, she tried to be persuasive in her way, but missed the facts about our ability to carry a larger mortgage. We argued. She was really pissed that I wouldn't agree with her. I went out to get a beer and think about the whole situation, and when I got back, she'd left. There was a note that said she was sorry about things, but nothing else."

Doug then reported, "I went to where she works this morning. She hasn't been in there since Monday, and the guy she liked there, her boss, also has taken off. The two of them have gone off somewhere."

Alan commiserated, but knew enough not to try to offer any quick fixes to the situation. There were too many variables, and too many loose ends to even begin. If he took sides, it would inevitably be the wrong one.

The rest of the day, and even into the following week, Doug slowly recovered some semblance of normalcy at work. At home, he was a disaster. Fast food containers piled up in the kitchen. The neatness of the house that Sandy maintained gave way to a more sloppy appearance, with dishes, mail, and an occasional beer bottle left on every table and chair.

When Sandy had been gone for almost three weeks, Alice stopped by just after lunch on Saturday. 

Doug answered the door, unshaven and unkempt from his romance with two bottles of wine the evening before.

Alice looked at him as she stepped into the house, "Hi Doug. Could I see Sandy?"

Doug looked puzzled, "She's not here. She hadn't been here since I talked to you three weeks ago. She's gone ... eloped I guess you might say with her beguiling boss. She's gone off someplace to start over with him."

Alice looked around with a shocked expression, "That's terrible. You poor man. Look at this place. It obviously needs a woman's touch." Alice pushed past him into the living room, picking up some of the plates and beer bottles and heading for the kitchen with both hands full.

She yelled over her shoulder, "You go and clean up while I straighten up down here. I'll take care of the upstairs next. I can't believe that Sandy would do that to you. She never gave a hint of anything like this, but she could be headstrong."

Doug had always liked Alice. She was a doer; she didn't sit around when she saw something that needed fixing. As he trod up the stairs, he thought about how he needed fixing. Sandy needed fixing. The marriage needed fixing. He wished Sandy would come home so they could start the repair work.

When Doug came downstairs, the house looked remarkably different. The windows had been opened, the stale odor the house had adopted was gone, and the place was back to its neat state. Alice was washing dishes in the kitchen.

"You ran out of dishes," she said. "What'd you do after that?"

"I reused the nearest one I could find."

Alice rolled her eyes. "No more. Start being civilized, Mr. Hawkins," she admonished. "Your wife may have run off, but you need to get YOUR act together. I will help you." Alice sounded like his new best friend, the way she took him under her wing.

She looked him over. "Have you done any washes since Sandy left?"

"No."

Alice rolled her eyes, and as soon as the dishes were done she headed upstairs. Seconds later, bed linens and pillowcases full of dirty clothes came rolling down the stairs. She followed, collected the large piles, and lugged them into the small laundry room off of the kitchen. Seconds later, the washer had started to chug on the first load.

Alice instructed, "Doug, if you'll allow me, I'll come over every day or so to check on you, and to do some cleaning. Sandy may show up, and you can't have the house looking like it did when I arrived."

She thought a minute and announced, "Now, give me a key so I can come in if you're at work."

Doug said, "I'll pay you."

Alice shook her head. "Nonsense. You couldn't afford me. Today, as my pay, you're going to take me to Rosetti's for dinner. In the meantime, you are going to mow your overgrown lawn, prune the shrubbery by the front door, wash our two cars, and vacuum upstairs and down. Get going."

Doug actually smiled for the first time in three weeks. "Yes, sergeant," he replied and gave her a mock salute. Alice pushed him towards the back door and the garage, as she went back to work off the remaining mess in the kitchen.

The following Saturday, Alice was back again to do the heavier cleaning and straightening. She could tell that Doug had made some effort to keep things neater and picked up.

As she got ready to go, Doug came up and took both her hands in his. "Thank you, Alice. You gave me a bit of two-by-four across the head. I was depressed; and I still am, about what happened with Sandy, but at least you got me off my ass and moving again. I'm doing better at work too."

Alice chuckled, "Well, my pay this week is dinner tonight at that fish place on the lake. Pick me up at seven, OK?"

Doug nodded, and even looked forward to the companionship. He realized how lonely the line of work he'd chosen left him. He had a nose in the guts of an errant computer all day, usually with parts splayed out all over the table in front of him; old parts on the right, and new parts on the left; that was how he worked – left to right."

With Sandy gone a month, Doug realized he had to do something else regarding their dead relationship. He made a list, but decided to wait another month to start anything. As he ran out of things to itemize, he realized he'd categorized the relationship as having ended. A month away from your husband with a lover boy sure put the kibosh on any ability to recover.

He'd already talked to her parents, but they hadn't heard from her either. Of course, Sandy had been angry at them for years, so that wasn't news.

At the end of the second month without the bitch, as he'd started to refer to Sandy, he talked to a lawyer. A no-fault divorce cost $495, and Doug wrote out the check and filled out all the forms. Since Sandy was fully out of the picture, it would be a unilateral award by the court. It would take six months for that to become final.

Alice was over a couple of weeks after Doug had filed for the divorce, and he pulled her upstairs. "Come with me, I need your help."

"What with?" Alice asked as they went up the stairs. She sounded hopeful.

"Bedroom," Doug teased.

In the room, he sat Alice on the bed, and opened the closet door. The aroma of Sandy's favorite perfume accosted him, and made him stop for a second. Why did the shrew have to walkout on him, and with someone she worked with too?

Matthew Thornton was a womanizing skunk. He'd not been back to the branch either. Doug had gone looking for him one day, and noticed that his name had even been removed from the cubicle he'd occupied where he could help bank customers with their accounts.

He wanted to get a voodoo doll for Matthew and his soon-to-be ex-wife, and stick pins in them, hoping that aches and pains would develop in the various places he pinned them. He'd do Mr. Matthew Thornton in the balls. That'd serve him right for stealing his wife. For his wife, he'd put a pin in her mouth, right where all her arguments came from; then he'd do her ears because she never listened to him. She just ignored his wishes and opinions. He wondered whether a pin through her heart was justified because of the terrible heartache she'd left him with. He was slow to heal.

Doug reached into the closet and pulled out the nearest dress. He announced, "I see three piles developing here: trash, charity, and anything you'd like."

Alice looked surprised, "I couldn't take Sandy's ..."

Doug said sharply, "Then there are only two piles. She's not coming back. Four months is a vote of 'never' from her. She's probably out on the west coast building a new life without a care in the world, or maybe she and lover boy went down in the Caribbean to rent boats to tourists. I don't care anymore."

"But don't you want to know?"

"No. She broke my heart. I need to clean out her stuff – today. After that, I'll be prepared to move on. You know I've filed, and I want all this stuff gone before then." The pain and strain in Doug's voice was back, and even as he spoke tears streamed down his cheeks. The pain of her leaving was more than evident. Every time he thought of Sandy his eye teared, and often he cried. He never thought she was this callus that she'd shaft him so royally.

Alice went to work in the closet. As the piles on the bed grew, Doug came to Sandy's dresser. He opened the top drawer.

There on top of everything were her birth control pills. She'd been religious about taking them, but increasingly talked about stopping so that she could get pregnant. In the same drawer he came across another small box with EPT in large letters on the side: Early Pregnancy Test.

Doug held the two items in his hands and turned to Alice. "Sandy wanted to get pregnant. I bet that guy Thornton knocked her up, and they've run off to have the baby and play house."

Alice looked at the items but was speechless. What could she say?

As Doug tossed the items in the trash, he conjured up images of Sandy waddling around some nameless town, her belly distended by a baby bulge as she neared full term. She hadn't shown anything when she left, so she couldn't have been very far along. Doug's heart ached; he had wanted to father children with her, and then raise them side by side in their loving household.




Assumptions



The idea of Sandy being pregnant by another man drove a spike further into Doug's heart as the images washed across his mind. He tried to shut them out, but he couldn't. He sobbed, and then sank to the floor with a scarf of Sandy's in his hand.

"Why? Why didn't she at least say goodbye? Why couldn't she have given me a chance – given us a chance?" The tears rained down, spotting his khakis. He cried into the scarf.

Alice knelt beside him, and cradled him in her arms, occasionally saying something soothing. Sandy had been her friend too, and abandoned that friendship without a word. Their friends Debbie and Sheila had agreed. Running off with a man, possibly pregnant, would explain the sudden departure and the total lack of communications. How could you admit something like that to your loving husband? What do you say, 'Errr, honey pass the salt, and by the way a guy at work made me pregnant.'

Doug cried himself to sleep on the floor. Alice had put a pillow under his head, and a light blanket over him. If he could rest – sleep in an unconscious state where Sandy's treachery couldn't reach him – he'd feel so much better.

She tiptoed around the bedroom, cleaning up the clothes they'd sorted. This job would take a few more hours. As she left the room, she paused to look at the plastic container of birth control pills and the EPT box on top of things in the wastebasket. What could Sandy have been thinking? Alice thought she had more sense than to do what she did.

When Doug woke up it was dusk. He could smell something wonderful wafting up from downstairs. 

He walked downstairs, feeling a little stiff from his nap on the floor. Alice was in his kitchen, apron on, and looking beautiful as usual.

She came up to him, "I'm so sorry about Sandy ... and ..."

Doug put his arms around her and they kissed. It wasn't a neighborly kiss either, but there was a lot of room for something more intense to develop.

As they parted, Alice looked deep in his eyes, gave him another peck on the lips, and said, "I'm almost done. While you were sleeping, I went out and got some fixings for dinner. We're eating here for a change, so go clean up." She nudged him away and returned to a bubbling pot on the stove.

Sunday, Alice came back and the two of them finished going through Sandy's things. In a way it was cathartic for Doug. Except for a few photos he'd decided to keep, he was erasing Sandy from his life. With each plastic bag of clothing went some of the grief he'd felt about her duplicity. 

That said, he found pleasure that Alice found some dresses and accessories that she liked and kept. Doug thought that from the ashes of the failed relationship at least a few things useful still remained.

Alice prepared dinner again that night in Doug's small kitchen. At her suggestion they'd both dressed up. He hadn't worn a tie in almost a year, and Alice wore one of Sandy's slinky cocktail dresses. She looked like a million in the dress, and Doug could quickly forget that Sandy had also nicely filled out the hot dress.

After dinner and clean up, Alice pulled Doug into the living room and turned on the television. She sat next to him on the sofa, and then it was tightly against him, and then with his arm around her, and then the kisses started and went on for a long time.

Alice was at the house when Doug got home almost every day after that. She was in real estate, and so could set her own hours most of the time. Occasionally, she'd have a showing of some house in the late afternoon or evening, and then they'd go out to dinner. A couple of times as the weeks passed, he even met a few of her clients.

The holiday season came and went, and so did the sixth month since Doug had filed for divorce. He'd silently become a free man again just after Thanksgiving when the statute waiting period on the divorce ended.

Christmas eve, Alice had been over and the pair had exchanged gifts: a necklace with a small diamond pendant for her, and a fancy backpack with all sorts of pockets for electronic gear for him.

After the gifting, they cuddled up on the sofa to watch television, and as they'd come to do, they started kissing, only that night their passions seemed higher and there seemed to be a new willingness for each of them that hadn't been there before.

When Doug awoke the next morning, he opened his eyes to find Alice naked and next to him. She leaned in and kissed him. She whispered, "Best Christmas ever!" and followed that up with more kisses.

After some discussion, Doug moved into Alice's condo and put his house on the market. Thanks to Alice, the property sold quickly and at a good price. He rolled the proceeds into a large lump sum payment to end the mortgage on Alice's apartment. That day in late January, they had a mortgage burning party for the two of them in the backyard of her condo at a barbeque. Back in the warm apartment, the pair made love again and again.

As winter came to an end, Doug had an opportunity to buy the computer business from Alan, his boss and the owner. Alan wanted to move to Silicon Valley, and be closer to the technologies and action his business was based on. Doug got a business loan, and took over the modestly successful business. For him it was a breakthrough. His earning would jump dramatically. If only Sandy had hung around for this opportunity.

Living with Alice had given Doug a new perspective on life and relationships. Alice was more of a negotiator. When they had an obvious difference of opinion about something, she led then to a win-win solution they both liked, instead of insisting on her own way or doing what she wanted despite knowing his disapproval.

Inevitably Sandy's name came up from time to time, and her betrayal still hurt, having left permanent scars across Doug's heart and soul. The anniversary of her leaving came and went, a warm day in late spring, and Doug did his best to forget the entire experience and not react in that twenty-four hour period.

Alice seemed to understand. She gave him his space that day in particular, being nearby in case he wanted to talk or needed a hug, but not insisting on anything else. 

A month later, the couple wed in a small ceremony before a justice of the peace. Doug had proposed, and Alice had accepted. She made sure that he knew she loved him, and understood that he would often have dark periods of minutes or days when Sandy's specter would haunt him – her leaving, the affair with Mark Thornton, the pregnancy.

Four days after the July fourth holiday, Alice and Doug were just finishing lunch together on a Saturday when there was a knock on the door. Having someone visit was unusual for the couple, and they both looked at each other with questioning glances and shrugs.

Doug opened the door to find two state troopers standing there, a man and a woman in full uniform.

"Mr. Hawkins?"

"That's me. Please come in." Doug escorted them into the living room. "What's wrong?"

Alice appeared and stood nearby.

"I'm Trooper Martin Wallace and this is Trooper Kendall Wise. We had a little trouble tracking you down since you've moved. I suggest that you sit down, sir."

Doug automatically sat at the near command from the policeman. Alice came to his side. After gesturing, the two policemen also sat.

"Mr. Hawkins, were you the owner of a 2009 Honda Civic, license number GDI-457?"

"I was. That was my wife's car, and she ran off with someone in it over a year ago. I've moved on since." Doug gestured to Alice. "This is my new wife Alice. I divorced my previous wife last autumn."

The trooper seemed to ignore that information. "Mr. Hawkins, we discovered that car submerged in the deep part of the White Hill River, right near Skugg's Bar and Grille. The car had apparently driven off the road into the river and sank. It was discovered by a couple of kids yesterday, who turned it in. Unfortunately, there were the remains of a single female inside. Based on evidence collected at the scene we have every reason to believe that female was Sandra Hawkins."

Doug froze.

The officer prattled on about forensics and other evidence in the car – a purse, a cellphone, and damage to the fenders and such. Doug barely heard those words.

A million thoughts ran through his mind like a thundering hoard of savages all slashing at him with painful spears, swords, and weapons.

Doug realized he must have been sitting in Skugg's Bar when she went into the water. The irony of ironies. She was so close, yet so far away.

Alice sobbed beside him.

Doug asked in a stoic tone, "She was alone?"

"Yes. There was no evidence of anyone else having been in the car. She had a GPS in the car, and when we fired that up to see what the accident situation had been, she had been heading for Skugg's Bar, apparently coming directly from your old home."

The tears came and came and came. All the pain of Sandy's disappearance came back a hundred fold – a thousand fold – million fold. Doug folded into a ball of pain and mental torment.

Doug realized in the flashes of deep and blinding agony that Sandy hadn't run away with Matthew Thornton, she'd died coming to see him – coming to try to build a bridge of love in their fractured relationship. The note she'd left explained it but he'd misinterpreted it; she was afraid she'd pass him going home as she went to the bar. She wasn't leaving him; she only left a mess in the kitchen when she left to find him. He cursed a million curses, but could feel himself shutting down.

Doug was only vaguely aware of Alice and police getting him into bed. He was catatonic in his grief, folded up tightly into a ball of heart broken sorrow and pain. He wanted to die. He wanted the world to stop and his life to end with no further misery. All he could do was sob uncontrollably. Nothing seemed to stop the pain.

The agony of his mistakes slashed through his every thought. Doug wondered how he would ever be able to live with himself or anyone ever again. He contemplated ending his own life, but then realized that he had to endue the mistakes in his thinking about Sandy forever as penance for his grievous errors.

Doug never left the bed for three weeks. He cried constantly. Alice tried to comfort him to no avail. Everything he'd come to believe had been wrong, so very wrong.

At one point after the police had come, Alice sat with him. He stared at her for a long time. He knew he was a pitiful and wretched person for having believed the worst about Sandy. Could she ever forgive him? Did he even want forgiveness?

Alice said in a neutral tone, "I found Matthew Thornton." She put a hand on his arm in a kind gesture. "I should have investigated months ago; the answer was so simple."

Doug's eyes enlarged at what she'd said.

Alice said in a monotone, "His parents were in a serious car accident near their home in Colorado the weekend before Sandy died. He dropped everything and went out there to care for them, and work with them through their recovery. He still lives with them in Colorado. He eventually did make contact with the bank, but only to quit, apologize, and explain his sudden absence."

Doug sagged back onto the bed as the tears of agony again filled his eyes. Deep inside the imagery in his head, Doug pulled out a long and ugly leather bullwhip. It already had blood splatters along the abrasive brown rawhide. He stood abjectly away from his prone form, and started to flog his body and his mind with whip – being both the executioner and the victim. Every snap of the whip made his body writhe in pain, seeking some kind of karmic forgiveness from the universe. Only in the pain and suffering did he feel he'd be able to withstand the rest of his life. Only in the pain and suffering could he pray that Sandy would forgive him. Only in the pain and suffering could he hope for a merciful and early death.

The End



Assumptions Can Kill You



copyright 2010 by madengineer3

Note to the reader: Grace and Isadora were first introduced in my story "Binding Contracts".

*

"It all seemed so simple and straight forward at first. My partner and I were some of the best in the business. I was an extremely good con artist, and my partner was fair at the con but not afraid to use real muscle on someone if it was needed. One way or the other we got what we were after; usually."

"Oh, I forgot to introduce us, I'm Melissa and my partner is Martin. He's not overly smart but he can be brutally efficient when it is needed."

Extortion is one of our favorite methods. We will set up a fake situation that would be extremely embarrassing to the mark and then have him pay through the nose to keep it quiet. Alternatively we will take someone near and dear to the mark and will hold them for ransom. At the moment we are about to start working on Mr. Robert Hague. 

He lives in what only could be called a small mansion just outside a large mid western city. He's a filthy rich old guy who, for diversion, enjoys putting on "magic shows" for young kids and gullible adults. This guy we will be able to really clean out. Our leverage is his daughter Grace's reputation and possibly her life. As an added bonus, Grace lives with her maternal grandmother Isadora Samael. Grace really seems to adore and respect Isadora. If you ask me those feelings are sort of sappy. If needed Isadora can also be used as a pawn. The problem being that she is not a blood relative of Mr. Hague.

Grace and her grandmother tend to keep to themselves. Their house is perfect for a hermit. It is set back in a large grove of trees about a hundred yards off a small secondary road. The house is miles from the nearest neighbor. It is not exactly like the "House of Usher", but it does have a sort of old, creepy feel to it. Because of these features nobody will hear noises from the house if Grace and Isadora don't cooperate with us. I am sure we can "persuade" them if needed.

We formed a simple plan. Martin would move in and restrain both of the women while I handled the interface with Robert Hague. This was more than agreeable to Martin because Grace was an unbelievably pretty woman. He was sure he could have some fun with her while they waited for the payoff. It made no difference to me. As far as sex is concerned I can take it or leave it. In general I prefer to leave it. 

Neither of the women would ever see me without a mask on. 

At four a.m Martin entered the back door of Grace's house.. At that hour very few people are up and have their wits about them. Robert carried two pairs of handcuffs and a roll of tape with him. He also wore gloves and an elaborate Halloween mask so that his face would not be seen. He went to Isadora's room first. He put the tape over her mouth and rapidly handcuffed her. He met Grace as he was leaving Isadora's room.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

"Shut up lady and do what I tell you and nobody will get hurt."

"And why should I do that? Are you sure that you know what you are doing?"

Martin was taken back by this. After all he was over six feet tall and this woman had to be a good six inches shorter than he was.

Martin said, "Just do what I say and both of you will be alive when I'm done. If you make a fuss I'm going to have to hurt you."

Martin was a bit uneasy when Grace smiled and said:

"Fine, we'll try it your way for the moment. I have one request though. Please take the tape off my grandmother's mouth. She won't make any noise."

This wasn't how a captive was supposed to act. Martin wasn't sharp enough to pick up on the implications of such behavior. He would pay for that error.

He removed the tape from Isadora's mouth and was happy to see that Grace willingly let him handcuff her. He brought both women into the living room and had them sit on the couch.

"Where's your phone?"

"We don't have one."

"So, you use a cell phone then?"

"No, we don't need phones of any type. Neither do we have a television, or radio."

Martin was now sure that these two women were at least a little bit crazy. He walked into another room, took out his cell phone and dialed Melissa.

"Melissa, it's me. I have both of the women in handcuffs. They are not giving me any trouble. It appears that they don't even have a phone. You'll have to use my cell phone when you need to talk to me. I'm a bit uneasy with these two. When I told Grace that I was going to handcuff her she actually smiled. She said something like, 'we'll try it your way first'. These two must be as nutty as a fruit cake."

"Watch your step with them, Martin. Don't call me again unless there is something that is an emergency."

Martin hung up and went back into the living room to watch the women. As he sat there, with the living room lights on he realized two things. One, Grace was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and Two, their house was very strange. The floor was a beautiful parquet floor with a large pentagram in the middle. There was also a circle around that figure. This was all done in beautiful wood. The living room itself was a bit strange. Its ceilings had to be a good ten feet above the floor. Its walls were almost totally covered in book cases. There was a bit of a musty smell to the books. They looked very old. On top of that, the women sat there with smiles on their faces as if they was were the ones in charge of the situation.

Robert Hague was sitting in his study and working on his extensive stamp collection. He was startled when his butler, John, interrupted him with a phone call. John had been specifically asked to take all messages so that Robert would be uninterrupted.

"Mr. Robert, sir, I need to interrupt you."

"What is it John?"

"There is a phone call that you need to take."

"Why didn't you just taken a message?"

"Sir, it involves the safety of Grace."

Robert took the phone call.

"Mr. Hague, just listen to me. Your daughter Grace's life is on the line. We want one million dollars in non-sequential, used bills for her safe return."

Robert interrupted, "Listen, you, I don't keep that kind of money on hand. Even if I did I wouldn't be paying you without proof that Grace is under your control. Without that proof you'll wait until Hell freezes over before I will give you a cent."

"I could get her on the phone to talk with you."

"That would be very difficult since she doesn't have a phone. It would also be very dangerous for you because I keep a record of all phones that dial into my home. For example your number is xxx-xxx-xxxx. Don't bother me unless you have proof that you have her." 

"How about we kill Isadora and bring you one of her hands? Would that be proof enough?"

Robert was now pretty sure that they had the two women in question. This didn't make him afraid for them. It did make him curious as to how this problem was going to be resolved. He hoped that he would be there when things were taken care of.

"Tell you what. I assume that you have both of the women at my daughter's place. I will go over there. I will be unarmed. My butler will drive me. When I see that you have the two women captive we can discuss the ransom."

"I don't like it. Beside that, what if we don't have the women at their house?"

"Oh, you do! You do. And so far you haven't tried to hurt anyone. But I would suggest that you personally make sure that they remain unharmed."

Melissa was now very uneasy. This wasn't how people were to react. This Hague person knew too much without having any means to know it. A shudder went down her back.

"O.K. Don't phone anyone. Be at her house in half an hour. If we see any sight of the authorities the women are dead. Got that?"

"Indeed, I understand. I will be leaving the house in five minutes."

Melissa hated to change plans in the middle of an operation. That always left loose ends. She had a mask just like Martin had. She'd rush to the house and wait for Mr Hague. She didn't want to shoot him, but she was prepared to do so if needed. 

Robert Hague carefully put his stamp collection back into his private vault. The Bentley was already warming up as he walked out his front door. John was holding the car door open for him. Moments later they were on the way. 

At the same time Melissa was well on the way to Grace's house. She parked in the rear of the house and phoned Martin inside the house.

"Company is coming. Don't be startled and kill somebody by accident." He had done that a couple of times in the past and it always complicated things.

It only took John and Robert twenty minutes to get to Grace's house. Robert Hague sat in the car until exactly half an hour after the phone call he had received. He walked to the front door and rang the door bell. He didn't want to just barge in and startle anyone. He sensed the approach of Melissa. She opened the door and then kept four feet between Robert and herself.

"You need to go into the living room." was all she said.

On hearing that they were in the living room Robert smiled to himself. After he walked to the living room Melissa locked the front door.

When he entered the living room Robert stood inside the circle on the parquet floor. 

"Stay right there Mr. Hague! You can see that both the women are alive, at the moment. Whether they stay that way depends upon you." Turning to the handcuffed women she said "Go over and stand next to him. I want you all close together in case we need to start shooting."

Grace spoke up: "I would suggest that you put your guns down, while you can. You have no idea of the danger you are in."

Martin broke out laughing. "You think we are in danger? That's rich!"

Isadora and Grace got up from the couch and did as the kidnappers had told them to do. They went over to stand with Mr. Hague. They walked to the center of the room and stood just inside the circle but not inside the pentagram.

Grace spoke up. "I am giving you one last chance to tell me that you will provide us the money we demanded.. If you don't you will live to regret it."

This time both Melissa and Martin laughed. At no point did they move their guns away from Robert, Isadora, and Grace.

Grace spoke up, "You still can save yourselves. Put the guns down and quietly leave."

"And what are you going to do to us?" asked Melissa.

"Oh, I'm not going to do anything to you, Aziel will do that for us."

"Who is this Aziel, where is he?"

"He's been standing in the room next to you while we have been talking. As soon as the door to our house was broken and the first step was taken inside; he was summoned."

"You're delusion........"

It was at that point that Aziel became visible. He looked taller than a professional basketball player and heavier than a football pro line backer. He was flat black except for the eyes and mouth. They showed an intense fire. The large thing's breathing sounded like a roaring furnace. 

"You two need to say hello to Aziel. You are going to be with him for a long, long time. If you are wondering, he is an afreet. Also, please note that our handcuffs are now on the floor as are both of your guns. You will also notice that you can't move. You had your chance but it has passed. You see, Aziel is from another space time than we live in. He has an almost never ending life, as you will when he takes you home to be his playthings. Aziel likes to break people up for fun. Aziel likes new toys because the old ones get so broken that they won't scream like he wants. Aziel, squeeze their right hands but don't break them, yet."

Martin and Melissa screamed in pain. Aziel smiled.

Grace continued, "In the past you two have killed several people but left no clues behind. You will avoid paying for those via the normal legal system. However you now will face our justice."

Turning to Aziel, Grace said: "They are your to keep and play with. Don't ever bring them back here."

Aziel grinned in a very unfriendly way and walked over to Martin and Melissa. Then, Martin, Melissa, their guns, handcuffs, automobile and Aziel simply disappeared. 

Grace turned to her father and grandmother, "Would anyone like some tea? I made scones to go with it yesterday."

Robert called John in from the car and they all sat down for a nice relaxing chat.