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Tunnel of Love

By: Jack T. Ladd



The warmth of her body next to mine was sublime. I could not sleep. I softly stroked her silky skin as my mind constantly replayed the exquisite sexuality of what we had just shared. 

I knew I would not forget this night. Never. I had never dreamed of such extraordinary things happening to me. Or of how abandoned and wanton I would become. Before I was… Well, I was young, unsure, and little scared. Then slowly, eventually, desire overcame my restraint, lust banished my inhibitions. I willingly, enthusiastically, became ensnared in this, to me at the time, deeply forbidden sensuality and lust. I was seduced. 

The train hurtled into blackness again. Lighting flashed from the dark tunnel walls into the carriage as we passed them, visually creating that old-fashioned and romantic strobe effect, that is so reminiscent of old movies. 

I sighed deeply for the thousandth time, as the light flashed over and over again across the sleeping face of Gilly lying next to me. The flickering light caught and illuminated her fine features and stylishly short-cut auburn hair. Her clear skin appeared translucently porcelain in the cold light as she nestled against my bare breast. The rocking motion of the train pressed her cheek against me rhythmically, the breath from her lips causing my still sensitive nipple, only millimetres away, to harden expectantly against her face once again.

I was seventeen at the time, my first trip away from home with all the excitement that brings. I was very pretty, no sense in being falsely modest now, although at the time I don't believe I realised just how pretty I was. Not too tall and not too short, with nicely shaped breasts that could be described by men as pert I suppose, and a figure that was, well, it was balanced. 

I had long highlighted dark hair that rested upon my shoulders, framing a face that was kinda round and, I have been told, kinda cute. Brown eyes and a small nose completed the picture. No real WOW factor then, nothing dramatic, but overall, definitely attractive. And my best feature? Well, I did have, and still have for that matter, nicely shaped and smooth long legs. Which even now, I do love to show off, given just half a chance!

What was I doing on that train? Well, I was getting away from my boyfriend, that's what. He had taken me on holiday to the French Alps for a ski holiday. And, of course, to take my cherry. Just like an idiot, and just like countless women before me, I knew that, but thought that was not everything he was after. That maybe he wanted me for myself, and not just for my pussy. Not that I was unenthusiastic, I wanted my cherry taken badly, but it was just such a disappointment when it finally happened. I suppose he was young - and inexperienced just as I was - so perhaps in retrospect, I shouldn't be so hard on the guy. It took Gilly, and her husband, Andre, to show me and make me understand what it was I was missing. 

They were both French; well, they would be this being France. I am English, did I forget to tell you that? And I had left my boyfriend to ski by himself, finally tired of his crude and selfish demands on my body. So I was fairly depressed, and I was alone. Figuratively and actually, sitting in this sleeping compartment, going home. And that's when they walked into my life and changed it forever. 

Gilly walked in first, followed by her husband, and they both sat down next to each other and opposite me. They had discovered I was English the moment they entered when they asked me if the compartment was free and, and as soon as they discovered my fractured French, they switched effortlessly to English Which, I have to say, they spoke in that particularly sexy way the French do when speaking English. Andre's voice was a low growl which made my skin tingle, while Gill's was soft and almost husky. I found them both immediately attractive. The French accent is deliciously sexy, and now, for reasons I will shortly explain, it is forever an aphrodisiac to me. 

As they sat down, they openly looked me over from head to toe, then turned to each other with what looked like a private smile, before turning back to me and asked me why I was alone, did I not have a boyfriend? I felt my face flush, as much from the openly appreciative looks I was receiving as from the direct question. I stammered out some form of explanation, which they seemed to accept. We chatted and after about an hour, Andre disappeared and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. I had relaxed more now and was enjoying our conversation. We had the whole night to pass before we reached Paris, so why not? And the French drink wine like we do water. So they are used to it, but I definitely was not. 

By about midnight, we were all inebriated and laughing continuously. I felt as though I had known them for years. We had locked the compartment door and had settled down for the night. The beds were lowered and we sat upon them, continuing to drink our wine. Gilly was wearing a long dress, cut provocatively almost to her waist, and as she sat she would often cross and uncross her lovely legs. I found myself unable not to steal glances, watching her every movement. She moved in a fluid, sensual way, never hurried, always elegant. I felt clumsy by comparison. 

She would often rest her hand on her husband's thigh as she talked, sometimes rather high I thought, as her fingers would gently caress his upper leg. Andre appeared not to notice. But, was it my imagination, or was that a growing bulge I detected inside his pants? I quickly moved my eyes away and glanced up to find Andre had spotted my stare. Embarrassed at been caught openly staring, I glanced quickly at Gill but she just smiled at me, and offered me some more wine. Nevertheless, I could feel my face flushing hotly once again. As she offered me the wine she leaned forward and placed her cool free hand upon my knee as if to balance, but the touch made me tingle in those hidden places like suppressed electricity. 

She looked up at my face, then, putting the wine down, she pushed a stray hair from my forehead. 

"You are feeling alright, Jane?" She asked me, looking concerned. 

Being so close to me now, I breathed in her perfume, the scent from her, the effect of the wine and my heightened state, made me almost dizzy. 

"No, no, really I am fine, just a little hot..." I managed to croak in reply, my mind spinning, from the wine or excitement I do not know. 

"I think you have too much wine, no?" She told me with a smile as she sat back. 

I swallowed, my throat dry, and nodded. 

"Just sit back and relax Jane, close your eyes, it will pass..." 

I did just that, my head against the vibrating wall, as I tried to steady myself. It was just the wine, and my hormones, I told myself. I will be all right in a few seconds. But the touch of her hand on my leg replayed itself in my mind. I could not explain the thrill of excitement it had given me. I felt hot, and not just on my face, that most secret part of me was burning and definitely moist. I did not consider myself at all gay, but had, like most women, wondered what it would be like to go with another woman. 

They were, in fact, both terribly attractive to me. What was wrong with me? Was all this simply the wine? Andre was very good looking, sophisticated and intelligent. All were individually good points, but in this combination, simply devastating. I saw him more than once cast an approving eye over my body, especially towards my legs, encased as they were in a very short skirt. And I admit I teased him, briefly showing him glimpses of the top of my legs from time to time. I felt safe; he was with his wife after all. But then, I had also caught Gilly staring at my legs and at my breasts also. These were plainly visible; my top shirt buttons open revealing the smooth shape of the top of my cleavage. I wore no bra and my nipples had sprung to attention, brushing teasingly against the fabric, making them even more erect and prominent. She had seen me catch her glance, and had just smiled another devilish smile directly back at me. I had flushed in embarrassment yet again, to my annoyance. And more in a little excitement it has to be admitted. 

I sighed to myself, opened my eyes and looked up to see them both engaged in a kiss. A really deep kiss, a very sensuous kiss. I watched them, my eyes widening as she leaned across him and kissed him. She was sitting on his left and, as she kissed him, she rested her hand on his shoulder. It seemed obvious to me that she had initiated the kiss. I looked away, not wanting to invade their privacy, but my eyes dragged themselves back despite my good intentions. I gave up and watched. 

Her hand moved up to the side of his hidden face, caressing him. It was terribly intense and highly erotic to me. I felt again that I shouldn't be watching, but the erotic display before me, simply enslaved me. As I watched, she slid her hand down his arm to his thigh and then incredibly, brazenly, she massaged the bulge of his crotch, which even to my innocent eyes seemed packed with something very large. My mouth dropped open at this sexy display being performed in front of me. I looked up from her fondling hand only to see Gilly looking back at me with a dreamy half-smile. Andre was now kissing her neck. She licked her lips slowly at me and then closed her eyes. My embarrassment was now replaced by a hot wetness in my pants as I watched entranced. 

Gilly's hand was now working Andre's zipper, working it down, trying to release the captured erection clearly outlined now. My heart was beating hard as I watched her release his cock from within its confines. Her hand snaked inside and slowly pulled out his penis. Once free, it almost seemed to spring out, unbending itself into a vertical vision of desire, a lovely shaped penis with a magnificent and purple mushroom of a head, crowning the thick corded shaft. I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry at the sight. My boyfriend had nothing on this monster. Gilly ran her fingers lightly along its full length as she returned to kiss his mouth. Then, slowly, she lowered her head to his lap and kissed the tip of his wonderful cock. I watched her pink tongue flick out, tasting around the tip as Andre let his head fall back against the seat, abandoning himself to her pleasure giving. I heard him moan in satisfaction at her kisses. His cock-head glistened with the wet saliva from her tongue as she lapped around the head, as it twitched and jerked with her every teasing touch. 

My hand was inside my shirt now, twisting one very erect nipple; the other hand snaked down between my legs. I didn't care anymore, this was just too erotic to miss out on. I saw Gilly look at me and smile that smile of hers once again and then she lowered her lips over his cock and sucked in the head, watching me all the while as she did so. Down she went, the shaft of his cock disappearing deeper into her mouth, her eyes fixed on mine, but no further than half way, as she withdrew slowly, revealing now a very wet, deliciously twitching penis. 

Then she snaked an arm towards me, offering me her hand. As I took it, she pulled me over to her, closer. Her hand went around my neck as she pulled my head down to her own and kissed me full on the lips. I resisted at first, never having kissed a woman before, a little scared, and my desire fighting my caution. Desire won, her lips touched mine again, softness unknown to me before. I closed my eyes as I melted. It was electric. Her tongue darted between my lips, fought, then captured and danced with my tongue. Soon I was sucking her writhing tongue with abandon, all caution thrown to the winds. 

She broke the kiss, drew back slightly and brought Andre's cock to her lips, quickly sucking in the head once again, then withdrew and offered the throbbing dick held in her hands between us, to my face. I stared at the pulsing cock, then back at Gilly. She saw my hesitation, and again pulled my head down and brought my lips to his cock. It was her cock really, as it was under her control. I opened my lips slightly as she moved the cock with her hand, rubbing its hardness against my opening mouth. I flicked my tongue and tasted the heat, then wider as Gilly guided its head between my teeth. I needed no more encouragement than that. I hungrily took the throbbing tip into me and sucked it into my mouth. 

It filled me, its heat electrifying, as I suckled on that soft but hard head of hot cock. I looked up to see Gill watching me with her half-closed eyes as I devoured her husband's penis. She leant forward and licked at its shaft, up to where I was swallowing the tip. I released the cock between us, as we both licked around the cock-head together. Over the top we went, meeting with our lips, kissing, sucking on each other's darting, searching tongues, then back to devour the thick cock between us in turns. Andre was moaning, his groans sending more shivers of excitement through me as I felt the tension increase in his cock, growing bigger, expanding more with his passion. Feverishly we both now sucked on his penis, two, three sucks each, as we passed the engorged penis back and forth between us. Gilly was now moving her hand and mine as we both gripped the thick shaft, rubbing feverishly and quickly up and down the long length. He was close, and then I felt it, and at the same instant, Andre moaned out noisily, as the thick shaft pulsed in my hand as he ejaculated in a thick stream up into the air. Semen flew everywhere as pulse after pulse flew out assisted by our pumping hands. Gilly hungrily watched the first few spurts before closing her mouth over the tip to catch and swallow her husband's spurting climax. She then withdrew and offered me the still pulsing dick, which I also sucked hungrily on, and was rewarded with the taste of two more gushes of hot cum on my lips, the slightly salty taste delicious. The head softened slightly, deflating with the release of passion, but still I sucked, draining him, until the softening cock slipped out. 

As soon as it did, Gilly kissed me. Full and deeply, then all over my face, I did the same for her, and we fell back onto the opposite bed. My bed. She was on top of me. She moved down my neck, kissing me all the time, down to the valley of my breasts. I lay back panting, letting her have her way with me. I didn't care anymore and I cried out as she found first one nipple, sucking it fiercely, twirling its hardness with her tongue, and leaving it, moving to the next one, repeating her torture again. 

My shirt was open fully now, my breasts free, as she took advantage of them now, swallowing them whole, the soft flesh enveloped inside her hot mouth. She left them, her lips trailing down my belly, down to that place that cried out for her touch. Her hands raised my skirt, hooked under my panties, pulled them down quickly over my legs. The cool air touched my hot pussy erotically, as I lay bare to her gaze. But only for a second as the coolness of the air upon my swollen pussy lips was quickly replaced by the heat of her hot breath. And the soft touch from her lips. Then her darting tongue dipped into me and I cried out at the new raw sensation. She expertly found my clit and tortured it remorselessly. Flicking the tender nub. Fire leaped up into my belly as she worked on me. I clamped my legs around her waist, drawing her into me, wanting her deeper, wanting her to fill me. I came explosively then, shuddering against her mouth, crushing her into me, again and again I came, how many times I don't recall, it seemed to last forever, such was the intensity of my release. 

I had never before felt that much pleasure, for the first time I lost my senses in its release, as waves washed over me, I lay shuddering in her arms. I felt other arms caress me, and discovered Andre lay alongside, I had forgotten completely about him in my passion. He kissed and fondled my back and sides as he undressed me completely. Gilly undressed also and soon all three of us were naked together. I lay in between them, Andre behind me, stoking me gently. I kissed and caressed Gilly for the first time, exploring her smallish firm breasts with their large erect nipples. Teased them, as I teased my own, and was rewarded by her soft moans. I bent my head and took one of them into my mouth, as she offered them to me, the first time I had tasted a woman's soft breast. It was delicious and exciting, so unexpectedly warm and erotic, as I let my tongue play over the nub of her nipple. 

As I suckled her breasts, her hand moved sensuously down to my soaking pussy, a finger dipped and trailed over the swollen slippery lips. I moaned at the light electric touch. I moved my own hand down to explore, and found her own pussy, smooth and clean shaven, her lips opened and slick with desire. I traced the outline, slipping one, then two fingers inside her hot cavern, looking for that hard nub of her pleasure. Finding it, she jumped at my touch, the erect nub sending her shivering. From behind, I felt Andre slide his erection between my legs along my pussy lips, fighting with Gilly's hand for the attention of my pussy. Suddenly Gilly shuddered and moaned, clamping her legs around my hand, humping my fingers inside her as she came. So quickly I felt the heat rush over my hand as she came. I was panting now, the excitement rising in me again. 

Gilly moved away and turned around, searching for my clit with her lips. She raised her legs and presented her own pussy to my lips for attention. I hungrily accepted the offer. I felt my own legs being lifted as they were separated to allow free access to my soaking pussy. I dove my tongue into her clit, tasting her sweetness, her softness, teasing her, flicking her erect nub. Something hot and massive was pressing against my own pussy. Andre was pushing his huge cock at me, opening me up. Slowly, with each thrust he gained entry, filling me with his width and length as he entered me fully. He stopped, as I felt him pulse gently against the walls of my pussy. Then I felt Gilly trace her fingers around my stretched opening, delving in with her fingers and tongue between his cock and my pussy lips, searching for my clit, finding it, making me moan and writhe, as Andre stayed motionless deep within me. 

Then he began to move, pulling almost fully out, before sliding his meat deeply into me again. At each thrust, Gilly tortured my clit with her fingers, rubbing me wildly. I clamped my mouth on her clit, forcing my tongue deep into her, to distract me from the overwhelming feelings flooding me. I started cumming, again and again as he fucked me with that huge cock and Gilly tortured me with her lips and fingers. The world receded into simple pleasure and torment and I must have passed out. 

Because when I awoke, or came to, we were all asleep together. And that is how my story started, with Gilly asleep on my breast, Andre behind me. All peacefully rocked by the train. They had introduced me to a world of pleasure I could never have dreamed of.

Tunnel of Love







Tunnel of Love



This seemed to be the point of the game; each participant entered the tunnel and the crawled past all of the others. When they had reached the front, they too lay down. Obviously, I went past other men. I tried to do so as quickly as possible, particularly when one of them tried to fondle me.

I finally passed the woman who had gone in before me, and then Kerri told me to lay down further along the tunnel.

Kerri started making her way past me. She was deliberately keeping low and I could feel the weight of her breasts brushing all the way up my legs. I hadn't got a clue what do with my hands, so I'd crossed them in front of me. Her flesh met with my knuckles and she paused to rub them backwards and forwards on them. She reached a hand between us and turned one of my hands over, sliding it inside the material of her dress.

The feel of her breast was only enhanced by the hardness of her nipple. She let out a low moan as I rubbed it. I didn't need to be instructed to use my other hand in a similar manner. But after only a few seconds of this Kerri began moving again. She kissed me quickly on the lips as she passed. I was intoxicated, not just by the wine, but by my own sexual arousal also.

In order to crawl astride me (and everybody else), Kerri had pulled her skirt up. My hands, having left her breasts, slid down her sides, past her waist and over her hips, where they came into contact with more flesh. Further movement brought me into contact with her suspenders and stocking tops. I hadn't realised that she was wearing them, but they felt fantastic. I wished that I could see them.

Memories of watching her swaying behind earlier prompted me to move my hands quickly in the other direction. I had an overwhelming desire to see what her ass cheeks felt like. Oh it was bliss!

All too soon it was over. However, my disappointment was short lived as the other players began to come past me (the first in started moving again after Kerri crawled past her. I took the opportunity to slide my hands over the each of the women, but most definitely kept my hands to myself when the men went past.

The woman who entered the tunnel ahead of me was halfway over my head when she suddenly dipped her crotch onto my face. "Your turn lover," she purred and pressed down further, rubbing herself on me a couple of times. I could smell how turned on she was and the crotch of her panties was very damp. Once again, my pleasure was interrupted far too soon as she began to move on.

I guessed that I was supposed to start moving again now, so I rolled over onto my front, got up an all fours and began moving over Kerri. It didn't surprise me that she started grabbing at me urgently. She managed to undo one of my shirt buttons, pulled the end of my belt out of it's loop and then grabbed and pulled off one of my socks before I moved on.

As I progressed, more of my buttons were undone and I lost my other sock. The man who had taken a shine to me managed to finally unfasten and remove my belt. I moved on as quickly as I could. The next woman wouldn't let go of the sleeve of my shirt until I had taken my arm out of it.

The tunnel was becoming littered with discarded clothing. My shirt left me, and my trousers soon followed. I reached Marge, the last woman and found that she was by now completely naked. The smell of everybody's arousal was mingled and trapped between the walls of this endless tunnel.

Marge was lying with her legs spread, forcing me to manoeuvre myself between them. She took great pleasure in reaching down and hooking her thumbs into the waistband of my boxers. They came off as I moved up her body. My rigid cock slapped down on her shaven pubic region. "Oooh!" she said.

She grabbed my shaft and tried to pull the head back down towards the entrance to her pussy. Kerri by now was right behind me and gave my ass a shove, pulling me free from Marge's grip. It didn't stop her trying to use her tongue and mouth as I passed her head.

I heard Kerri mumble one word as she paused over Marge; "Mine," she said.

I lay waiting, as she started kissing all the way up my legs. She reached my testicles and began licking them. Her mouth felt hot as she took each of them in, one at a time. Her hands stretched up to rub my chest as she continued to lick along the length of my pride and joy. She took the end into her mouth and began to demonstrate again the ability she had displayed a few days before.

Kerri was on the move again. While she kissed, I could feel those wonderful tits of hers sliding over my body. She reached my face and began kissing me, invading my mouth with her tongue. She reached down between us and took hold of me. She stopped kissing long enough to whisper, "I have waited too long for this."

My entire length was suddenly inside of her. ‘ Never even touched the sides' is a phrase that comes to mind. Of course it did, but she was so wet that there was absolutely no resistance. Once in, she used her vaginal muscles to grip and then started to drive down onto me furiously. She only paused in her actions while three more people tried to clamber past us, but then continued once more with her crazed fucking.

Then Kerri had inexplicably slowed her actions, which meant that I was able to hear the sounds of others doing the same. I suddenly realised the reason for her change in pace; I could feel the presence of somebody else. I froze when I felt another erect cock slap against my leg. This man was obviously doing something to Kerri out of my sight. She was pushed down onto me and I heard her say, "Yes. I want my ass fucked too. Do it!"

I could feel the extra weight of another person on top of Kerri. He must have entered her very quickly, because he was very soon slapping his thighs against her cheeks. As Kerri was driven forward with each thrust, she was lifted up my shaft and as he withdrew again she dropped back down onto it.

Kerri was grunting with pleasure, the only words she could utter were obscenities.

"Fuck, yes. Oh fuck. Harder. Fuck me harder. Fuck my ass. Fuck my cunt. Make me come you bastards!"

I couldn't do anything at all in my position, but my colleague in passion re-doubled his efforts. Kerri stopped talking and was overcome with a spasmodic jerking that heralded her orgasm. I could feel the clenching around my cock and it spurred me on to my own climax. It felt as though I was shooting for an age. Meanwhile, the ass-fucker had also started to come. He flooded her with copious amounts of semen, so much in fact, that as I lay exhausted, I suddenly felt his come dripping down onto my balls. To my surprise, far from disgusting me, it caused a few more pulses from my own slowly deflating penis.

*****





Tunnel of Love Pt. 01



Tunnel of Love is an album by Bruce Springsteen. All lyrics referenced in this story are from that album.

This story first posted as a ten-part series titled The Chanceys. After some time off and with the benefit of hindsight and reader feedback, I went back and edited the story as a whole—something I was not able to do as I was writing and posting chapters individually. The revised story offers, among other things, a tighter narrative, a revamped ending, and an epilogue.

The Loving Wives category is defined as "tales of adventurous married women and their mates." In The Seducer: Mission Impossible, 'austin.erotica' told a tale of an adventurous married woman named Jennifer Chancey. My story imagines the life of her mate, Mike Chancey, during her adventure—and the consequences of the adventure for both of them. This story is not officially part of the same universe as Austin's story, but I developed and published it with his kind permission.

My thanks to CopperSkink for editing each chapter of The Chanceys before it posted (saving them from many, many faults). Thanks also to readers, who in effect "beta-tested" the story, and whose comments helped shape this refined version. Like its predecessor, this version has ten chapters; however, it is posted as a four-part series. (A fifth installment, "DVD Extras," includes a "director's commentary" on the making of the series, a "lessons learned" essay, and a survey of the feedback I received on the original series.)

* * * * *

PROLOGUE

John Michael Chancey was a fucking boy scout. That's what people said about him, all his life. He tried to take it as a complement, but it bothered him.

What's wrong with being a boy scout? A boy scout does his duty. A boy scout is prepared. A boy scout takes care of himself and other people. A boy scout is considerate but tough. A boy scout is a survivor.

There was another reason why Mike (his first name, John, had never stuck) didn't like being thought of as a "fucking" boy scout. As a kid, Mike literally had been a boy scout. His son was a cub scout. The boy's pack was full of good kids—well, mostly—with good dads. Many of the dads had been scouts too.

Nothing wrong with scouts. Scouts are good guys.

Sometimes, good guys get the girl. Mike was one such guy. Twelve years ago, he'd married tall, tan Jennifer Charlotte Robertson (she, unlike Mike, hated her middle name). Today, they were still the happiest couple anyone knew.

Mike was a software engineer, and Jennifer was a Kindergarten teacher. When Mike Junior ("Mikey") came along, their lives changed, of course, but their relationship survived the changes pretty well. Mikey was now in the fourth grade, and though he could drive his parents crazy at times, they loved him with all their hearts.

Monday through Friday, the family's days and nights were consumed by work, school, housework, and homework. However, Jennifer regularly went to a gym after work on Mondays and Thursdays; Mike went on Tuesdays and Fridays. Saturdays, Mike and Mikey usually did guy stuff—scouting, sports, and so on—while Jennifer had her "day off." Sundays, Jennifer looked after Mikey while Mike got a break.

Saturday night was the couple's "date night." Although date night sometimes involved actually going out on a date, it was also their euphemism for sex. Occasionally, Mike's parents or a family friend would host Mikey overnight, so Mike and Jennifer could have the house to themselves. Usually, however, date night just meant getting together after Mikey went to sleep.

After twelve years of marriage, sex was still good. Not as exciting, but intimate and fulfilling. Like most happily married couples, Mike and Jennifer just wished they could get more of it.

* * *

Rain and storm and dark skies Well now they don't mean a thing If you got a girl that loves you And who wants to wear your ring

CHAPTER ONE: Mike's Story

Mike and Jennifer were in the bathroom, about to get ready for work. Mike was awfully horny. Their Saturday night date had been foiled—ah, parenthood!—and they hadn't been able to make up for it on Sunday. Monday morning, the sight of his naked wife was too much for Mike to take.

I can't go a week like this. I can't go even a day like this.

They almost never had sex on a working Monday. Mike couldn't remember ever having sex in the morning on a working Monday. And at most, they had five minutes before Mikey would wake up.

Mike made a pass at Jennifer anyway.

Jennifer was willing. Their passion erupted quickly. As their tongues entwined and Mike's hardening cock pressed against her pussy, he felt goose bumps rise on her skin. He bowed his head and sucked on her nipples, which responded immediately. By the time Mike's hand snaked down her body to her cleft, she was already wet.

Seems I'm not the only one boiling over this morning.

After moistening a finger inside her, he began stroking her clit. Mike loved to simultaneously suck Jennifer's nipples and play with her pussy. Ordinary, Mike would have carried on that way for a good long while. However, Jennifer reminded him that there was no time for foreplay or multiple orgasms.

Mike spun Jennifer around, bent her over the counter, and rammed into her. A minute in her tight, hot pussy was all Mike needed—he was ready to come. Jennifer, however, wasn't quite there yet; so with practiced concentration, Mike controlled himself, even as he thrust faster.

Soon, Mike heard her make the slight sound that meant she was right on the edge. That set him off. With several forceful thrusts, he emptied his balls into her.

That set Jennifer off. Knowing that her legs and arms would nearly give out as her orgasm overwhelmed her, Mike took as much of her weight as he could with his hands. Gently, their movements slowed.

Now this is the way to start a work week.

Five minutes had elapsed. Right on time, Mikey knocked on their bedroom door.

* * *

While waiting for Jennifer to come home from the gym that evening, Mike heard her car pull into the driveway. Usually when she arrived home, Jennifer would be out of the car and at the door almost before the engine quieted. When Mike did not hear her come inside right away, he looked out a window. Jennifer was sitting in her car, looking at the house. She seemed to be scanning it with her eyes.

Mike opened the front door and waved at her. She seemed startled; but then she smiled, came indoors, stepped into his open arms, and kissed him. Seeing her in her gym clothes, still a little flush from her workout—and remembering their "workout" this morning—Mike felt a stirring in his loins.

"Dinner's almost ready," he said, somewhat breathlessly.

"I think something else is almost ready," Jennifer replied, feeling his growing erection through their tight embrace.

"Oh behave," Mike said in his best Austin Powers voice.

Mike went to bed first that night. As he drifted off into deep sleep, he began to dream that his cock was feeling really good. Gradually he awoke to find that Jennifer was sucking on it. This was quite a surprise: Jennifer wasn't into blowjobs, and she almost never initiated them.

Because Mike was so relaxed and groggy, everything Jennifer did seemed magnified. It felt like his cock was his whole world, which she held in her tugging hands and her hot, wet mouth. Awake enough to speak but not wanting to break whatever spell had fallen on Jennifer, Mike kept his mouth shut and his eyes closed. In his thoughts, however, he cheered her on.

Up and down, up and down...yeah... It feels so good! I hate to ask you for it, but I do love it. Oh yes, stroke my balls. Mmmm, that's it, take me deeper into your mouth...

Mike was thrusting into her mouth and groaning now. Usually when he was this was close, Jennifer would switch to jacking him off or fucking him. Tonight, however, she seemed determined to finish what she'd started—the way she'd started.

Mike was not going to rock the boat. This was, without exaggeration, the best blow job she had ever given him.

Fucking...fucking your mouth, Jennifer! Oh yeah, going to come in your mouth! In your... Oh god! Coming...

Mike nearly blacked out. When he finished coming, he finally spoke.

"Baby, that was fantastic. What got into you?"

Wiping her chin with her hand, Jennifer laid down next to him. "I don't know. I just wanted you to know how lucky you are to have me."

"Honey, I wake up knowing that. I am the luckiest son of a bitch that ever walked this earth."

Falling asleep, Mike declared the day the best Monday ever.

* * *

Thursday night, Mike again greeted Jennifer at the door. This night, upon seeing her, Mike did not get just mildly aroused; almost instantly, he sported a raging hard-on. Jennifer was wearing her very sexiest gym clothes: short shorts and a sports top. Her hair and makeup looked perfect.

Must have freshened up at the gym. Wants to look extra hot for me tonight?

As she drew closer, he noticed a glow about her face that wasn't from any makeup. Mike knew that glow. Something was up.

"Something is up," Jennifer said, cupping her hand over his erection. "Is that a tent pole in your pants, or are you happy to see me?"

"Both," Mike said dryly, raising his eyebrows.

She laughed, and they kissed.

"I have something to talk to you about after dinner," she said.

Called it! After all these years, baby, you can't fool me!

It took a little longer than usual to get through dinner and put Mikey to bed. Through it all, Mike noticed Jennifer's glow fading. She seemed to be distracted, even nervous.

"So," Mike asked after Mikey was asleep, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well," she replied, looking at his chest instead of his eyes. "You know my friend Susan?"

Susan Miller was an old friend of Jennifer's. Mike had met Susan at his wedding, but he had never seen her since. Susan had moved around a lot, and Jennifer had kept in touch with her mostly by email. Now Susan lived in the city, but even so, Jennifer rarely had time to meet up with her. When she did, it was after work or on a Saturday, while Mike was taking care of Mikey.

"Susan wants me to go with her to a hospital tomorrow night," Jennifer continued slowly. "A hospital for sick kids. Really sick kids. The hospital takes volunteers to...well, I'm not exactly sure, but I think you read to the kids, do art projects...things to take their minds off what they're going through."

Mike's heart swelled with pride as Jennifer continued.

"Could you watch Mikey tomorrow night so that I could go? I know you're tired at the end of the week, but I really think I should give this a try."

"Of course, honey," Mike answered without hesitation. "Mikey and I will miss you, but you should definitely do this!"

"Really...it's OK?"

"OK? You know how I feel about community service, and this sounds perfect for you!"

Thinking of Jennifer's sister, who had died as a child, Mike almost said something more—but he paused. It was the one thing he was never quite sure how to talk about with Jennifer. It always made her so sad.

"Yeah, definitely do it," was all he added, before looking slightly puzzled. "Why did you think you'd need to...you know, almost beg for permission? Why wouldn't I say yes?"

Jennifer didn't answer but hugged him. "Thank you, honey. I love you so much."

"I love you," Mike replied. "Besides, you hardly ever get to see Susan!"

For a while, Jennifer said nothing. Then, she gave Mike a quick kiss, broke from their embrace, and went to get ready for bed.

* * *

The next morning, as they got ready for the day, Jennifer put on one of her favorite dresses. It was one of Mike's favorites, too—tasteful, but sexy—though to Mike, anything on Jennifer was sexy. He complimented her on her appearance and told her how proud he was of her for volunteering.

"So," he asked, "is Susan going to meet her there, or are you girls going together?"

"Umm...I'm meeting her there."

"Hmmm, that's good. I can't wait to hear all about it tonight. See you tonight, honey."

Later that day, Mike left work a little early. At least once a month, he tried to do something special and unexpected for Jennifer. Today seemed like a good occasion.

Except that I'm swamped with work. Oh well, I'll make up for it next week, or I'll go in on Sunday. Today, Jennifer comes first.

He smiled. Actually, Jennifer always "came" first. Mike was a considerate lover.

Mike stopped at the store for some supplies for dinner. Arriving home, he put the groceries away and launched into cleaning mode. He started with the bathrooms; then collected laundry and started a wash; moved on to cleaning up the kitchen; and finished with sweeping and vacuuming the floors.

Following a quick shower, Mike drove to the school to pick up Mikey from the afterschool care center. A number of the other kids' moms were there, gossiping while their children played in the yard. They giggled as Mike approached.

"Hey, Mikey's dad!" said one of the moms, shuffling over to him. It was a little joke among the moms. At first, it had been a necessity, but even once they go to know the fathers' names, they'd still often identify them by their kids' names.

Mike was never quite sure how much interaction with the moms was appropriate in Jennifer's absence. The problem was, several of them were certifiable MILFs. One such MILF was now on an interception course.

Collette Davis was a single mother. She wasn't quite drop-dead gorgeous like Jennifer, but she was tall, blonde, buxom, curvy, and not reluctant to show it. Mikey had been classmates with Collette's son for a couple years, so Mike had run into her occasionally. Rumor—overhead by Jennifer and passed to Mike—was that Collette's divorce, several years ago, had been nasty for some reason.

Seeing Collette peel off from the other moms, Mike winced. He did not want to talk to Collette today—or ever. He'd been avoiding her since the fundraiser earlier in the year. He still remembered it well.

* * *

The fundraiser was an evening, leave-the-kids-at-home-with-a-babysitter affair. The parents were dressed up but letting their hair down. Jennifer was helping run the event, leaving Mike alone most of the night.

Collette was dressed for sex and drunk. Twice, she cornered Mike, engaging him in long conversation. The second time, she touched him—frequently—and made sure he got an eyeful of her bodacious, almost naked breasts.

Mike was too polite to blow her off, but he was feeling uncomfortable. Jennifer and he had been going through one of their bad luck spells; he hadn't had sex for three weeks. Here was Collette, flirting with him and looking eminently fuckable. His blood was rising.

As he fumbled to say something to break off the conversation, Collette leaned close to him. Her breasts pressed against him. She put her lips right to his ear.

"Mike, you are so hot. I know Jennifer goes out of town sometimes, to visit her parents, and that sometimes she takes Mikey with her, leaving you alone..."

Feeling Collette's breath on his neck, the heat of her lips near his ear, and the softness of her breasts on his arm, Mike felt a twinge in his pants. The smell of her perfume, the husky element in her voice, and the slur in her words hit him in all his male weak spots. There wasn't any doubt about what Collette was selling.

Mike had to admit to himself that if he were single, he'd probably be buying. But Mike wasn't single, and he never forgot it. Although Collette's attention was flattering, Mike decided to get the hell away from her.

"Col—Ms. Davis, I think I see my beloved wife waving at me to help her with something. Nice to talk to you. Have a great evening."

* * *

Though Mike remembered that little scene, he wasn't sure Collette would remember it. By the end of the fundraiser, she'd been so drunk that she'd needed someone to help her get home. Nonetheless, as Mike looked around the schoolyard for Mikey, he hoped to avoid her.

"Hi there!" Collette said, close enough now that he couldn't ignore her.

Damn it.

"Hello, Ms. Davis."

"Please, how many times to I have to tell you—call me Collette! Say, Mikey told my Bobby that Jennifer is going out tonight and that you'll be taking care of him."

"That's right."

"Well, maybe we could all have dinner, and Bobby and Mikey could play while we catch up? It's hard being a single mom, you know. I could use some advice from a man."

You could use something from a man, that's for sure. And a lot of guys would love to give it to you. But you're barking up the wrong tree. 

"Actually, Jennifer will be home for dinner, and I'm planning on something for just the two of us. Gotta grab Mikey and go. Have a great weekend!"

Back home, Mike played with Mikey for a little while, then made him dinner. Later, while Mikey took a bath, Mike made dinner for Jennifer. Mike wasn't as good a cook at home as he was at a campsite, but he had a few specialties. Tonight, he made his best. 

When Jennifer came home, Mikey was watching a video and Mike had everything set out: candles, wine, dinner. Mike was hoping for a warm reaction, but Jennifer seemed slightly put-off by it all—flustered, even.

"So," Mike asked as she sat down, "how was the hospital?"

Jennifer waited until he poured her a glass of wine to respond.

"It was so good, honey. You can't believe what those children have to go through. It was the most amazing thing I have ever done for anybody."

Grinning, Mike sat down and poured himself a drink. "Did I mention how proud I am of you? I want to know everything."

Jennifer told him about the children she'd met and what she'd done to entertain them. She described it as an amazing but emotional experience. Saying goodbye had been so overwhelming, she'd cried on the way out.

They finished their dinner, listening to Mikey laugh at the video. Jennifer said it had been an emotionally draining day and that she wanted to go to bed early. Mike was disappointed; her comments implied that there would no sex tonight. He'd hoped otherwise, but he didn't pout. There was always tomorrow night—their usual date night.

"I love you," he told her. "I'll clean up and put Mikey to bed. You go rest. You deserve it."

When Mike finally went to their room, Jennifer seemed to be asleep. Mike smiled at her as he got in bed as gently and quietly as he could. He was pretty tired himself, and he fell asleep quickly.

The next day—Saturday—Mike did things with Mikey, as usual. When they returned home late in the afternoon, they found Jennifer finishing the preparations of one of their favorite meals. It had taken her the better part of the day. Mike felt bad; a Saturday was supposed to be Jennifer's "day off."

The meal was terrific. Afterwards, Jennifer made a point of getting Mikey to bed early. Then, she virtually attacked Mike. He didn't get another porn-star-worthy blowjob as he'd gotten on Monday, but after two orgasms by other means, he had no complaints. 

* * *

On Monday, when Jennifer came home from the gym, she seemed apprehensive.

"Honey," Jennifer asked Mike during dinner, "I'd...I'd like to do it again—the hospital. Maybe even make it a regular thing. I hate to ask you to watch Mikey and give up one of your gym nights...and make you take on another night of cooking, but—"

"But nothing," Mike said, walking over to her. He kissed her on the forehead.

During his early years with Jennifer, he'd hoped his love would cure her of the pain she still carried from her childhood trauma. Later, he hoped that Mikey—the child he'd given her—would do that. Perhaps his love and Mikey's had indeed helped, but he suspected that the wound still ran deep.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 01



"I'll shift my gym schedule around somehow," he said. "You have an opportunity to do something special, babe. Of course we'll support you."

A cloud seemed to pass over Jennifer's face. Thinking she was apprehensive about the commitment, Mike tried to reassure her.

"You can do it, babe! And I love where your heart's at."

For a moment, Jennifer seemed even more uncertain; but then she brightened, and they had a pleasant evening.

* * *

Returning home on Friday, Jennifer reported having had another emotional but gratifying experience at the hospital. Saturday night, Mike and she made love downstairs, in the TV room, heavily soiling a throw blanket they kept on the couch. Collecting it the next morning and tossing it on the laundry pile, Mike smiled at the thoughts of exactly how (and with what) it had gotten soiled.

Mike wasn't smiling when he came home from the gym that afternoon, though. He'd dropped a free weight on his foot, leaving it badly bruised. He tried to hide the injury from Jennifer and tough it out, but she caught him limping and made him explain. When he showed her the bruise, Jennifer was concerned.

Despite his protestations that it was nothing, she made him get in her car, and with Mikey they went to an urgent care center. The x-ray showed some trauma but nothing serious. Still, Jennifer made him take some painkillers.

That night, as she insisted that he prop his foot up with pillows, Mike again tried to make light of the injury.

"Come on, Jennifer, it's just a little bruise."

"Let's keep it that way," she replied. She brushed her fingers through his hair and smiled. "You don't have to be such a tough guy all the time. There is no shame in needing my help..."

As she was finishing the sentence, Jennifer's voice trailed off. Her smile faded to a look of...well, for some reason, it reminded Mike of how he would feel when he experienced déjà vu. Jennifer turned her face away from Mike, towards his injured foot.

"Maybe you should help me lift weights next time," Mike joked.

Jennifer didn't laugh. In fact, Mike's comment seemed to unnerve her. She shot him a strange look, but then her smile returned, and she kissed him goodnight.

* * *

The weeks passed by. Mike didn't know if it was the volunteering or what, but Jennifer seemed less stressed out about work than usual. She seemed to have more energy and confidence, too. It was almost as if she were reverting to the Jennifer from the old days.

When we weren't always worn down by work—and Mikey.

Not coincidentally, he thought, Jennifer was also friskier than usual. They enjoyed a particularly good run of sex during those weeks. Mike even started to feel a little guilty. As much as he lusted after Jennifer, she was more than just a sex object to him, and he never wanted her to feel otherwise.

"Babe," he asked her one night after they had made love. "I've been thinking...maybe this Friday someone could watch Mikey for us after school and I could visit the hospital with you?"

Jennifer was silent. Her back was turned to him.

"I would just love to see you doing your thing."

Jennifer still did not answer.

"Babe?"

Maybe she's asleep already?

"Honey," Jennifer finally replied, "that is so sweet of you! But the...well...I actually asked about that. They said they have to control the number of visitors at any one time. Especially when one of the volunteers is new and the kids are still getting used to her. I'm still pretty new there, so they told me it's not a good time yet.

"But someday," she hastened to add. "I would love for you to visit with me!"

Mike was crushed. He hadn't imagined that the answer might be no. Also, he'd hoped that his question would bring smiles, kisses, and hugs. But Jennifer just fell silent again.

"I hope it's soon," Mike said, trying to cover up his disappointment. "Love you, sweetie, good night."

* * *

The next Friday, at work, Mike had a wicked thought.

What if I just go over to the hospital tonight? Would they really turn me away? Hell, I'll threaten to take Jennifer away if they try! So...who can I get to take care of Mikey?

He smiled and chuckled to himself.

I bet Collette Davis would do it! But nah, someone else...

Mike never got a chance to ask around when he arrived at the schoolyard. Mikey wasn't feeling well, and Mike barely got him home before he threw up. Fortunately, he bounced back almost immediately (like kids often do); but still, Mike's plan was ruined.

So much for going to the hospital and surprising Jennifer. On the bright side, at least it looks like I won't be taking Mikey to a hospital tonight.

Like many parents, Mike and Jennifer had had their share of late night trips to the emergency room. He wouldn't miss those nights—and the groggy days after—when Mikey was grown. Yet there was something about those difficult experiences, those shared intense events, that made them closer.

All part of the rich tapestry, I guess.

Jennifer was late coming home from the hospital that night. It was dark outside and Mikey was asleep. Mike started to worry.

Maybe she went to dinner with Susan. She probably meant to mention it to me this morning but forgot. Or, maybe she did mention it and I just didn't catch it.

Mike tried Jennifer's cell phone. It went straight to voicemail.

Probably just out of battery power again. She always forgets to charge that thing.

Mike tried watching TV, but he steadily grew more uneasy. Eventually he had the bright idea to try Susan's cell phone. He was looking for her number when he heard the front door open.

Jennifer was startled to see him.

"Oh...hi, baby. I...I thought you'd be asleep."

"Asleep? I was worried about you, sweetie!"

She looks terrible. She's been crying.

"Baby, are you OK?"

"Oh Mike, Mike...just...let me go change, please."

She nearly ran up the stairs. Mike stood for a moment, dazed. Then he followed her.

Approaching their bedroom, Mike heard a drawer open and close. Entering, he barely saw Jennifer before she disappeared into the bathroom. Puzzled, Mike changed, got in bed, and waited.

The fan in the bathroom muted other sounds, but Mike thought he heard sobbing. Then he definitely heard the shower running. A dark thought crossed Mike's mind.

Was she mugged? Oh my god, was she...did someone...

He lurched towards the bathroom. The door was locked. He called to her, but there was no answer. Stumped again, Mike went back to bed.

Eventually, Jennifer emerged. Without a word, she climbed under the blankets and rolled onto her side. Mike cuddled up to her until they were spooning.

He brought his hand to hers. She hesitated, but then squeezed it tightly. Still, she did not speak. After a while, Mike couldn't bear it any longer.

"Baby, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

She started sobbing again. Through the sobs, she spoke hoarsely.

"It was...it was one of the kids. Kevin. He died."

Given what he had feared, Mike's initial reaction to this news was relief. Then, the tragedy of it sunk in.

"Baby," Mike said sympathetically, enveloping her more.

"I...I don't want to talk about it right now. Just...just hold me."

He did. Still coming down from his panic, he held her tight. Just as he was finally falling asleep, Jennifer spoke again.

"Mike?"

"Yes, baby?"

"This whole thing tonight, somehow...I got to thinking about our wedding vows. How you promised to cherish and keep me, in sickness and in health. How I promised to do the same for you."

"Of course, sweetie."

"I just...I thought about how much I love you. I hope you know that I do, and that I'll love you forever."

"I do, sweetie. And I'll love you forever too. How did the rest of those vows go? 'Forsaking all others, to be faithful...' Something like that?"

Jennifer did not answer.

"Anyway, let's go to sleep," Mike whispered. "You had quite a night."

* * *

The next morning, Mike woke up early, but Jennifer was out like a light. He wondered how long it had taken her to fall asleep. He got out of bed quietly.

Jennifer came down as Mikey and he were finishing breakfast. Mike sent Mikey out to play in the backyard as Jennifer sat down at the table. Mike hugged her and waited patiently for her to open up.

"It...oh god, Mike...he'd fought so hard. I couldn't take it. And it all came back...my sister..."

Jennifer started sobbing.

"After that, I...I just couldn't come home right away. I...had to get some space. I'm sorry if you were worried."

"It's all right baby, I'm just glad you're OK. When you got home, when I looked at you...and then when you ran for the shower...all kinds of crazy thoughts went through my head."

Jennifer stopped sobbing.

"Like...like what?"

Mike's face turned ashen.

"Like that you'd been mugged. Or worse."

Jennifer's tears came gushing out now. Mike and she sat there, hand in hand, until her tears were spent.

They were supposed to go out that night, but they canceled. Going to bed, Mike didn't expect sex. He snuggled up to her and caressed her, trying to be comforting rather than arousing.

"Mike?"

Still too provocative, I guess.

"Yes, baby," he said apologetically. "I know...you just want to cuddle tonight. It's okay."

"No, I...I want you to make love to me. You know, the way...the way you love me all over."

Mike knew exactly what she meant. He loved this routine. He thought of it as the sexual equivalent of writing a love letter.

Mike rolled Jennifer onto her back. Leaning over her, he tenderly caressed her forehead. Next, he planted gentle kisses there as his fingers moved lower to caress her delicate ears and cheeks. Fingers followed by kisses; this was the pattern for what would follow.

His fingers moved on to trace her lips while his lips lovingly kissed her ears and cheeks. Then his lips met hers as his fingers moved on to trace her neck. Gently he kissed her, but he did not expect nor want her to kiss him back. In this routine that they'd honed over the years, Jennifer was required to do nothing (nor allowed to do anything) but lie still and receive pleasure.

Mike's hands moved to her breasts, caressing them through her nightshirt, while his lips moved to her neck. As Jennifer's nipples rose, Mike pinched them lightly between his fingers. Then, pushing and pulling his fingers in opposite directions, he used the fabric of her shirt to stroke the swelling nubs.

Jennifer's breathing, though quiet, was now audible.

After many long minutes of lavishing manual attention on Jennifer's nipples while planting kisses on her neck, Mike rose up and removed her shirt. He slid down the bed until his mouth was level with her breasts. His hand fell to her naked waist and began caressing her there, as his lips and tongue descended on her beautiful globes.

Jennifer began to moan softly.

Anytime Jennifer's areolas and nipples were exposed and within Mike's sight and reach, he could not resist licking, sucking, and even gently nibbling them. He loved it that such things brought her pleasure as well. From night to night and even moment to moment, however, there was a point at which his attention could be too much for her. This night, he made sure not to pass it.

Jennifer purred as Mike made love to her breasts. Meanwhile, placing his hand underneath her sweatpants, Mike caressed her mound. Gradually his hand slipped farther down, until—through her panties—his fingers traced her pussy lips.

Jennifer started to squirm.

Mike scooted farther down the bed. Removing her sweatpants, Mike gazed at her tanned, toned legs. He massaged them, starting from her ankles—each time drawing closer to her panties. Soon, his fingers were again tracing her pussy, which was now damp.

Drawing closer, Mike planted sensuous kisses on her thighs, hips, and stomach, circling inward. When he reached her panties, he lingered along the edges, dipping his tongue just underneath. Meanwhile, his fingers grazed her pussy through the material.

Mike looked up at Jennifer's face. She was deep, deep into what he was doing to her. Little gasps escaped from her mouth as he continued to kiss and lick her sensitive outer hips, inner thighs, and the top of her mons. The gasps became louder as he ever so gently began to lick her pussy through the fabric of her panties.

Jennifer was utterly aroused now. A minute or two of hard rubbing on her clit would probably make her come. However, this routine of theirs involved much more. She'd called it "loving all over," which was an apt description. Before the finale, there was more of Jennifer for Mike to love.

Mike rolled her onto her stomach and admired the view. As attractive as he found her lower body from the front, he loved the back of it even more: the cute, pale soles of her feet; the marvelous lines of her calves and thighs; and best of all, her sensational ass.

Starting with her calves, Mike began to kiss and caress her. Soon he was at her thighs, nibbling at the rise of her cheeks. He licked and kissed every inch of them that was not covered by her panties. Meanwhile, his hand caressed her inner thighs, eventually stroking the sopping wet material covering her hole.

Jennifer raised her ass to allow him better access. Reaching in, Mike stroked the full length of her pussy, while kissing her ass cheeks passionately. When Jennifer began to squirm again, he decided it was time for the final act of the performance.

Mike reared up, hooked his fingers under the elastic band of her panties, and slowly—ever so slowly—removed them. Before rolling Jennifer on her back, Mike admired her ass once more. There, fully revealed to him now, were those perfect cheeks...and between them, something else: the most dainty, perfect, tantalizing brown hole ever.

The thought was so dirty, he'd never expressed it—but oh, how he wanted to lick that little bud. He'd gotten close a few times, when they were younger; and since then, while going down on her, he'd occasionally snuck in a stroke or two. He was always afraid, however, that if he went at it overtly she would scream and kick him.

Tearing his eyes away from Jennifer's bum, Mike turned her over. Spreading her legs, he lay down on his stomach. His head settled in between her thighs.

The next moments were ones Mike always savored. He beheld her beautiful slit, a sight reserved for him and him alone. He inhaled the musky, intoxicating scent of her arousal. Tilting his head slightly to one side, he felt her warm, soft inner thigh on his cheek. Extending his tongue, he licked her slit from bottom to top, tasting her juices. As he did, he heard her exhale sharply.

If there was a name for oral sex on a woman equivalent to "blowjob," Mike had never heard it. He certainly couldn't imagine calling it a job. Going down on Jennifer was a pleasure and a privilege.

While continuing to lick her, Mike extended his hands up to her breasts. Finding them dry despite the attention they'd received from his mouth earlier, he brought his hands back down and wet his fingers with a combination of saliva and pussy juice. Then, extending his arms again, Mike wet her nipples and began to play with them.

As much as he enjoyed doing that, he wished she would take them in her own hands. How he would love to see her touch her own breasts while he took care of her pussy! However, she'd never done it on her own initiative, and he'd never had the nerve to ask her to do it.

As Mike continued to lick Jennifer's pussy and tweak her nipples, her hips began to rock. Her hands gripped the bed sheet tightly. Her breathing was getting very heavy, causing her breasts to rise and fall like the swells of an incoming tide—a tide that would soon turn into cresting, breaking waves.

Mike knew that Jennifer's clit was screaming for attention now. All he had to do was move up slightly and attack it with his tongue, and Jennifer would quickly come. However, Mike repositioned himself to finish Jennifer off in her favorite fashion—from above, not below. As he lay perpendicular to her, facing her feet, he began to lick Jennifer's clit from the top down and from the side, just the way she loved it. Meanwhile, he worked two fingers inside her.

Mike felt Jennifer's right hand grip his shoulder. Her breathing grew rapid and loud. Ordinarily Jennifer might have been screaming now, but the rules of this routine were that she could not vocalize. However, her breathing—plus her grip—were enough to give her away.

Here she comes. Oh god, how I love this part. I wish I could see her face. Come, baby!

Jennifer virtually levitated as she climaxed. Her back arched sharply and her hips rose, causing her clit to smash into Mike's mouth. Her pussy contracted hard around his soaked fingers. From the sight, sound, and feel of it, Mike could tell her orgasm had been a powerful one.

Jennifer shuddered, then relaxed and collapsed on her back. Mike came up beside her and hugged her. Her eyes were closed, and under them were little tears. He kissed them.

* * *

Jennifer didn't go to the gym on Monday. She didn't go to the gym on Thursday. Given all her enthusiasm and discipline over the past few weeks—hell, the past year—Mike was surprised.

He was less surprised, however, when Jennifer didn't go to the hospital on Friday.

"I'm not ready for that again yet," she explained. "Actually...I don't think I can ever do it again."

"Give it time, sweetie."

"No, really, Mike. I'll find...something else. I just can't go there."

Mike thought about how much the volunteering had meant to her. He didn't doubt the depth of her grief over the recent tragedy, but he didn't think it would make her turn away from the hospital forever. In time, he thought, she would go back.

That night, they had a subdued evening at home. The next day, however, Jennifer seemed to perk up. Throughout that Saturday, she was affectionate, playful, and—during the evening—aggressively flirtatious. Waiting for Mikey to fall asleep that night was sheer torture for Mike. Eventually Mikey went down for the count, and the couple retired to their bedroom.

Mike sat on the edge of the bed while Jennifer got ready in the bathroom. Mike hoped that tonight, Jennifer would give as well as she'd gotten from him the previous weekend. Recalling the awesome blowjob he'd received some weeks ago, Mike wondered if he might be in line for a repeat performance.

When Jennifer emerged, she was wearing a short red robe. That meant she was wearing only a red robe. Mike was wearing his sleeping shorts but nothing else.

Their eyes locked upon each other's as Jennifer crossed the room. When she reached the bed, they embraced and kissed. Mike parted her robe and ran his hands up and down her naked body within.

His cock was already aching. He wanted to do something about it, soon. However, Jennifer's breasts—level with his face, as he sat while she stood—commanded his attention.

Taking one in each hand, he marveled at them. Though not as high and firm as they used to be, they were still magnificent to behold, magic to touch, and delicious to suck. In fact, the imperfections that were beginning to show just seemed to entice him.

He'd tried to figure that out once. His best guess was that he still imagined himself a young man. In many ways, he still saw the world much through the same eyes as he'd had in his twenties. Perhaps as Jennifer got visibly older while he imagined himself as the same, he was subconsciously living every young man's fantasy of dating an older woman.

A very attractive and sexy but mature woman. Maybe that's what turns me way the hell on.

As Mike dove in, devouring Jennifer's breasts, she grasped him by the back of his head and arched her back and neck. Groaning, Mike lost himself in her mounds for a while. Unbeknownst to him, Jennifer's tolerance level for such attention was high this night, and she was enjoying every bit of his escalating passion. However, Mike wasn't even thinking about where the line might be. Tonight, her breasts were there for him—not vice versa.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 01



Once his lust for her tits was partly sated, his cock's lust for her mouth got the upper hand. Releasing his hold on Jennifer's breasts, Mike grabbed her robe, pulled it away from her shoulders, and dragged it down to the floor. Then, he placed his hands on her now-bare shoulders and gently pressed down.

Compliantly, Jennifer got down on her knees. Mike smiled as she removed his shorts. He intended to watch most of the impending action. However, for the sake of concentrating on the feel of the first tongue strokes, he closed his eyes and threw his head back.

He waited...but nothing happened. Initially, he thought she might be teasing him. Well, if she wanted him to ask for it, fine. But just as he was about to speak, Jennifer stood up. Opening his eyes, Mike looked at her questioningly while she climbed on the bed and pushed him backwards.

"Baby," she whispered between kisses, "I'm so hot I just want to ride you. I don't want to wait, and I want you to come inside me."

Disappointed but not wanting to deny a woman in need, Mike retreated to the middle of the bed. As he lay down, Jennifer got on top of him. Kissing him hard, she rubbed her pussy on his leg, then along his cock. The feeling of her wet folds grinding against him seemed so intimate. She could have made him come just like that.

Once his rod was coated with her juices, however, Jennifer maneuvered it inside her. As Mike felt her pussy's muscles go to work on his cock, he grabbed her ass and raised his hips slightly. Usually, Mike could last a while in this position; but as Jennifer rocked him hard and he watched her breasts sway, he felt himself losing control.

"Mmmm...baby," he whispered, "Slow down or you're going to make me come."

"Do it, yeah," she said, speeding up even more. "Come, baby!" she urged, grinding against him as she would when she was about to come.

"Come now, baby!" she cried. "Come inside me!"

Mike did as she ordered.

* * *

Sunday morning, they talked about the upcoming week.

"Honey," Jennifer said, "You know I didn't get to the gym last week, and I'm going to be so busy at work for a while, I don't know when I'll be able to go regularly. I think I should just cancel my membership so we can save some money. I'll go for walks around here when I can, maybe get some little weights and a treadmill or stationary bike."

Mike was very surprised. Jennifer had been working hard and raising Mikey for years, but through it all, she'd kept going to the gym. It wasn't easy, but she made it happen.

"Not sure about getting a machine, babe, but...whatever you want. You know I love you no matter what, but I hope you aren't planning to let that killer bod go to seed."

"It's not necessarily forever, Mike. As for my 'bod,'" she added—smiling, "is that all you care about?"

"Yes," Mike deadpanned.

"You know what, how about we get someone to take Mikey overnight next Saturday? So we could, you know, have the house to ourselves..."

This could be a good week.

"I like where you're head's at," Mike replied.

Normally, this would have drawn a playful retort from Jennifer—probably, a play on "head." Such, "On Saturday, I'll expect your head to be somewhere I like." Mike waited for it.

But Jennifer just smiled weakly and left the room.

* * *

Later that week, Jennifer told Mike that she was going to see Peter Wombert.

It occurred to Mike that Jennifer had not said anything for a while about her longtime friend Peter. Not that Mike minded—he thought Peter was an ass. Initially, when he and Jennifer were dating, he'd been suspicious of Peter. But Jennifer laughed it off, and eventually, Mike grew confident she had no sexual interest in him.

Once Mike didn't feel threatened by Peter, he actually encouraged Jennifer to keep in touch with him. He felt that rather than play the jealous husband, he should allow Jennifer a male friend, especially someone she'd known before Mike. Peter was a link to her past, and Mike didn't think it right to try to obliterate that.

Still, Mike hated spending any time with Peter.

"Mike," Jennifer said, "I've been thinking about a lot of things since...well, you know. I've been thinking about priorities, making things better for our family. I know you've never liked Peter, and frankly, I've gotten pretty sick of him myself. I heard he went too far with one of his sex objects, and I think it's time we stop socializing with him."

This week is getting better and better.

"I do think," Jennifer continued, "that I owe it to Peter to say goodbye to him. No, that's not right. What I mean is, I don't think he'll get the message—won't take it seriously—unless I do it in person. I'm going to do it on Saturday, when I'm running my errands."

"Maybe I should come with you," Mike offered, "to see the look on his face! Or in case he gets...agitated."

"I can handle Peter," Jennifer replied firmly. "I've done it all these years, right? Besides, if you were there, he'd think you were making me do it."

"He'll probably think that anyway," Mike laughed. "But I leave it in your capable hands."

Jennifer walked over and kissed him. Squeezing his butt with one hand and his crotch with her other, she whispered in his ear.

"Yes, my hands are very capable. I think I'll remind you of that on Saturday night."

Mike smiled.

Now that's my girl!

* * *

That Saturday, when Mike returned home with Mikey after a long bike ride, there was a handwritten message from Jennifer on the counter.

"Mister, you are going to have a special night! After you drop Mikey off, meet me at the bar of the Italian place downtown on First Avenue. Don't be late, unless you want me to be really drunk."

It was a tough decision, but Mike got to the restaurant on time.

When Mike spotted Jennifer at the bar, he felt shot with an arrow. She looked fantastic. But as he drew closer and saw her face, she seemed troubled. As he approached her, he watched her stare intently at her drink, mutter something, and pound it.

"You come here often?" he asked over her shoulder.

She looked up, saw him in the mirror across the bar, and smiled.

"No, but if you're here often, I could make it a habit."

As they walked to their table, she whispered in his ear.

"I'm not wearing a bra."

Mike felt a rush of blood to his groin.

"No panties either."

Whoa!

Mike lowered his hands to obscure his growing erection.

"You know babe," he said, "suddenly I've lost my appetite. Maybe we should just go home?"

"No way, mister, you are buying me a nice dinner. I'm sick of your cooking. And besides..."

Still whispering, she made her voice deep and husky.

"We're both going to need nourishment...if we're going to go all night."

* * * * *

There's a room of shadows that gets so dark brother It's easy for two people to lose each other In this tunnel of love

CHAPTER TWO: Jennifer's Sunday

Jennifer awoke more relaxed and rested than she had in weeks. Mike was still sleeping. She looked at him and smiled.

Sleepy head! Well, I can't say you didn't earn it.

Jennifer and Mikey had a busy Sunday ahead of them: not one, but two birthday parties. They would be gone all day. But first, Jennifer had to pick Mikey up.

Jennifer hopped in the shower. As she thought about what she'd done there with Mike not long before, she felt tingly from more than just the warm, pulsing water. Before she even realized it, her wet, soapy hands were lingering longer than necessary on her thighs...her breasts...even her ass...and especially her—

Oh...oh...that feels good...like when he...

Jennifer washed her slit well. Very, very well. She placed a fingertip inside her opening—at first just to clean it, but then...

I shouldn't do this. I have so much to do. I probably couldn't even have another orgasm right now anyway.

Her pussy told her otherwise. Slipping into memories of the previous night, Jennifer began to masturbate.

* * *

She drove home from the restaurant, Mike following in his car. Her nipples, unconstrained by a bra, were at full attention. Her pussy, bare under her skirt, was wetting the seat.

Jennifer opened the front door of the house, let Mike in, and closed it. Immediately, he pressed her up against the door and kissed her forcefully. She felt his hands stroking her face and neck; then, on her chest, caressing her braless tits. He was mad with lust, and so was she.

While kissing her, Mike unbuttoned her shirt. Violently, he pulled it shirt open and pushed it partway down her shoulders. Then, to her surprise, he took a half step back...and slowly, deliberately looked her over.

She felt so exposed, so wanton standing there—on display before him, in her high black heels, short skirt, and open shirt. Her naked breasts heaved as she panted. Her hard nipples and wet pussy were throbbing.

Mike closed in again. He ran a hand up and down her thigh, each time hiking her skirt up a little more. Soon, the bottom of her pussy was showing. She squirmed as he stroked all around from the innermost flesh of her thighs to her ass.

As if making a decision, Mike paused for a moment. Then, forcefully, he lifted her arms above her head. With his left hand, he pinned them together. In response, her shoulders dug into the door. To balance herself, she thrust her hips out and widened her stance.

Mike took advantage. Without warning, he thrust a finger into her pussy. It slid in easily; and moments later, he added a second finger. Meanwhile, still holding her wrists above her head, he invaded her mouth with his tongue.

She moaned through the kiss. Mike usually took the lead during sex, and sometimes he could be pretty intense—but this was really intense. He was treating her like a slut. That was fine with Jennifer.

"That's what I'll be from now on," she thought. "Your slut wife, Mike! But a slut only for you..."

Sitting through dinner, wearing not a thread of underwear and enduring Mike's hungry stare, had excited Jennifer more than she expected. Then, the wantonness of her half-undressed pose by the door—followed by Mike's show of dominance—had driven her out of her mind. Now, the press of Mike's thumb muscle on her clit and the furious thrusting of his curled fingers inside her overwhelmed her body.

"So fast...so hard," she thought, feeling a massive orgasm coming on. The fuse was lit. Her hips began to buck.

* * *

In the shower, Jennifer was coming. She was slightly bent over, bracing herself against a wall with one hand. Her other hand was between her legs—her middle finger flying over her wet clit.

Ah! Aahh! Aaaahhh!

With each contraction, her body undulated. Sheets of water fell off her body and hit the base of the shower. Each splash was like an exclamation mark.

As Jennifer was getting dressed, Mike stirred. She walked over to the bed and kissed him good morning.

"So," she asked him, "what are you going to do with all your free time today?"

"The usual," he replied. "After I sleep a little more..."

* * *

Jennifer was in the kitchen, eating a quick breakfast, when Mike called to her from upstairs.

"Honey, did you get the mail yesterday?"

Baby, I had a lot of other things on my mind yesterday.

"Nope!" Jennifer called back. "But I'm about to take something to the car. I'll get it."

Back in the den, Jennifer flipped through the mail. Mostly, it was the usual assortment of catalogs, pamphlets, and "urgent offers" requiring her "immediate response."

Junk.

But there was also a large envelope, hand-addressed to her. She studied the return address. The envelope was from a hospital.

A shock ran through her. She hadn't thought about the hospital...or Kevin...for several days. Slightly afraid but also intrigued, Jennifer opened the envelope.

Inside was a thank-you card from the staff. Also in the envelope were a dozen drawings of Jennifer with the children. The pictures were beautiful. Staring at them, Jennifer had to fight back tears.

She thought to show them to Mike, but quickly she thought otherwise.

He might ask questions. Besides, I need to put this behind me.

Scanning the drawings again, she smiled at the messages written on them. "Thank yoo Jenefr I lov yoo." "Jennifer is the best Hermione!" The praise tickled her vanity.

Jennifer thought about the dark road ahead for most of the kids. They obviously had put a lot of love into the drawings. As a teacher, Jennifer was used to looking at children's drawings—but these were special.

No, I can't throw these away.

"Babe," Mike said from down the hall, "don't forget to take Mikey's dinosaur sweatshirt!"

Yikes, I've got to get going.

She put the card and drawings back in the envelope, placed the envelope under the rest of the mail, and put the stack down on her desk.

Damn it, I better not be late. Mikey hates to be the last one to a party.

* * *

They were a little late getting to the first party, but not by much. The birthday boy and most of the invitees were Mikey's classmates. Mikey immediately fell in with them, allowing Jennifer to mingle.

She enjoyed catching up with the other moms; she'd been out of the loop for a while. Hearing about the mundane details of their lives comforted her. They reminded her of the simple pleasures in her own life—pleasures from which she'd started to become detached.

Sneaking around with beautiful strangers? Trying to save the world? No more! Wife, mother, teacher of twenty-nine little munchkins: that's me. It should be enough. It's more than enough.

Jennifer's recent adventure had been like falling into a movie. Now, the movie was over. She had stepped out of the theater and back into the real world.

The kids were disappointed that Mike was not at the party. He always played with the kids, and they loved him. So did the other moms.

Who wouldn't? Maybe he's not movie star handsome, like...but he's handsome in a very real, human way. I've caught more than one of these ladies here checking him out!

Let's see, what else? Smart. Steady, respectable job. Devoted father. Favorite of all the kids. Unassuming but tough—he wasn't even going to tell me about his foot! And remembered when he carried that cub scout with a twisted ankle up a hill for a mile?

Jennifer went to look for a bathroom. There was a line outside the nearest one, but the hostess invited her to use one on the floor above. Jennifer began making her way up the stairs...and blushed.

There's another thing they don't know. Mr. Boy Scout has a wild side. Well, that's my secret, ladies.

As she reached the top of the stairs and entered the restroom, Jennifer's thoughts returned to the previous night.

* * *

Mike's naked body cascaded down the stairs. She was below him, still wearing her heels—but nothing else. She released her grip on his wet, softening cock. The taste of his cum lingered in her mouth.

He grabbed her underarms and pulled, signaling that he wanted her to move up. She assumed he wanted her to go to the bedroom. However, as she climbed past him and her knees came astride his head, he grabbed her ass and held it.

Her pussy, not coincidentally, was hovering right over his face.

Looking down, she saw Mike's tongue snake out. Broadly and firmly, he licked along the entire length of her engorged lips. She moaned, closed her eyes, and arched her neck.

She felt Mike's tongue extending, probing. She reared up, altering the angle of her hips—and suddenly, his tongue thrust inside her. Curling it, he teased her while drawing out her juices. Meanwhile, his hands kneaded the cheeks of her ass.

Probing, swirling, licking...Mike's tongue thoroughly explored everywhere it could reach inside her. She'd never been fond of the phrase "eating pussy," but she couldn't deny that it fit what Mike was doing to her. Egging him on in her mind, she went with it.

"Oh god," she thought, "eat me, Mike! Eat my pussy! Eat me out!"

A little later, Mike's tongue was on her clit, vibrating. Pressing down and gyrating, Jennifer found just the right amount of pressure and travel that she needed. Earlier, against the door, she'd felt wanton...but this was beyond wanton.

"I'm fucking my clit on his tongue," she thought. "I'm naked, on the stairs, on my hands and knees, fucking my guy's face!"

Jennifer was rocking wildly now and groaning loudly. Mike urged her on with his own moans. He wanted it almost as much as she. She could let herself go.

"Oh fuck," she said aloud, "oh fuck yes baby you're going to make me come all over your face—"

Her earlier orgasm, by the door, had been like an explosion. This one was like an implosion. Her toes curled. Her calves tightened. Her neck arched. Instead of radiating from her pussy, pleasure erupted everywhere and—like her body—collapsed towards her pussy. In the aftermath, she felt reduced to a sensitive, pulsing clit.

Mike looked up at her, smiling. Then she noticed his cock. It was hard again and still a little wet from how the action on the stairs had started, before she'd climbed on top of him.

"Bedroom," Mike commanded. "Now!"

* * *

"Now! I want to open my presents now!" the birthday boy yelled. Snapping out of her reverie, Jennifer finished washing her hands—the water had been running for some time—and exited the bathroom. Rejoining the party, she checked on Mikey and then went to the kitchen to have a bite to eat with the other moms.

"Jennifer," one of them asked, "my little girl, Gina, is in the other Kindergarten class..."

"Yes, I know."

Jennifer had heard about little Gina. She'd had health issues and had not completed much preschool. Happily, it seemed, most of her health issues had resolved—or at least stabilized—but developmentally, Gina was a half step behind most of the other kids in her class.

"Well," the mother continued, "We're thinking about getting a tutor for Gina. Just once a week, maybe. It's all...all we may be able to afford. Can you recommend anyone?"

Jennifer felt a familiar tugging at her heart. She answered quickly, impulsively.

"How about me?"

"But you're—I mean, that would be amazing, but you're a teacher! You can't possibly have the time or the energy! Especially with Mikey..."

Jennifer realized she'd been hasty. She wasn't supposed to tutor kids in her class. But maybe kids in another class?

Oh well, screw the rules, whatever they are. The poor little thing...I should do this.

Just then, Jennifer saw Gina's brother, running alongside Mikey.

"I'll tell you what," Jennifer said, "If your boy could stay after school and play with Mikey, and you could watch them, I'd be happy to spend some time with Gina. Let's pick a day of the week—Fridays, maybe?"

"Um...yeah, Fridays, that would be great. Um...how much, you know, how much would you charge..."

"That depends. How much would you charge for watching Mikey?"

"I don't understand..."

"Here's what I'm thinking. You watch Mikey, I'll spend time with Gina, and we'll call it even."

"That's...hardly even, I think, but of course...wow. Jennifer, thank you so much!"

Soon it was time to move on to the next party. It took a while to get there. The second birthday boy was one of Mikey's fellow cub scouts, and his den was well-represented. The kids at the second party missed Mike even more.

Jennifer filled in, helping to organize a game. Ever the teacher, she quickly figured out what kind of encouragement each child needed to do his best. She was in her element now, and it felt terrific.

When the game ended, the party moved outside, and Jennifer found a comfortable spot to watch as others supervised the next game. She found herself alone for a while. Feeling grounded for the first time in weeks, she tried to reflect with some detachment on what had happened since the night she left the hospital in tears.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 02



Then the lights go out and it's just the three of us You, me, and all that stuff we're so scared of

CHAPTER FOUR: Hearts in Darkness

In the film Apocalypse Now,the protagonist (an army captain played by Martin Sheen) waits in a Saigon hotel for a new mission. Two men arrive via the stairs, bringing him one—"like room service," Sheen narrates. "It was a real choice mission," he continues, "and when it was over...I'd never want another."

Dr. Gayle Seymour sat in her office, preparing for her next and last appointment of the night. After more than twenty years in training or in practice as a therapist—specializing in relationship counseling—she felt she'd seen it all. She was getting a little bored with her job.

Maybe more than a little. The stories are all the same. The names change, the faces change—no, even the faces all seem the same now.

She still found satisfaction in helping people. She just hadn't had an interesting challenge in a while. Sure, depending upon the personalities involved, her work could be difficult, but it had become a tedious kind of difficult. She longed for something new.

Something not cast in the usual molds. Something that would engage me. Not just a case; more like...a mission.

Boredom was not her main problem, however. In fact, it was probably good for her. No, her main problem was...

No. Don't think about it at the office. Keep it contained to home.

Dr. Seymour's newest clients were coming up the stairs for their first appointment. She did not know it yet, but they were bringing her a real choice case. And when it was over...

* * *

The husband stood to the side of the doorway, allowing the wife to enter the office first. Dr. Seymour took notice. She noticed everything.

Chivalrous. That's good—mostly. But it seemed reflexive, out of habit. He didn't look at her as she passed by him.

"Welcome," Dr. Seymour said, shaking their hands. "Jennifer, I presume...and Mike. Please sit down."

As Dr. Seymour returned to her chair, the wife hesitated. One of the chairs was closer to the counselor than the other. The wife chose the closer one.

She wants help. Good; but she's not the one I'm most concerned about, it's him. He made the appointment, and he was damn thorough in vetting me. Experience tells me...he's not the one who screwed something up.

"So," she told them, "I understand you were looking for counseling, and chose me. I'm very flattered! Now, the main goal of this first session is for me to get to know you a little. Hopefully, that will help when we get to talking about...well, I sometimes call it 'tough stuff.' But let's not worry much about tough stuff just yet, okay?"

The man and woman nodded, somewhat blankly.

Same old same old. They're unsure how this is going to go. They're hoping for a fast resolution of their problems, but they're not eager to face the problems.

Dr. Seymour spent most of the session asking basic questions about the couple's background, their jobs, their home, and their son. By the end of the session, Dr. Seymour felt she had a pretty good sketch of their lives prior to what had brought them to her. Disappointingly, there were many elements that fit the usual molds.

Married for twelve years, with a child for ten years. Jobs wear them down and stress them out. "Spare time" is consumed by child care, managing property and finances, and trying to stay fit. Not much "couple time," and it becomes routine. Then something slips...

Still, some of the standard ingredients seemed to be missing. Dr. Seymour was intrigued; maybe this case would offer more than met the eye. She resolved not to pre-judge it.

"OK, we have some time left. I promised you we wouldn't jump into the tough stuff right away, but I would like to know something about your current situation. Not the 'what happened'—we'll get to that another time—but the 'what's happening.'"

Kind of vague, I know. But let's see where they go with it.

The wife spoke first. "Um...well, since..." was all she could get out before breaking down in tears. The husband's body language initially telegraphed sympathy; but after a split-second, he looked away from her and straightened his back.

Conflicted, aren't we?

As the wife struggled to compose herself, the husband spoke up. His voice was steady but slow. His tone was resigned.

"I'm sleeping in the spare bedroom. That probably tells you a lot."

It tells me you're having serious problems. Figured that one out from the fact that you're here! But the 'spare bedroom' thing suggests that you're open to reconciliation. No one has moved out...or been kicked out...yet. 

"Does your son know that's where you're sleeping?"

"Yeah, Mikey figured it out, so we told him...I told him...that I've been snoring a lot, and Mommy can't sleep so we're sleeping in different rooms until I can get some help. Actually, there's some truth to the snoring bit, so I don't feel like I'm completely lying to him."

If you care so much for honesty that you find telling a little white lie to a child difficult...let's hope no one's told any whoppers to you!

"What's mealtime like?"

"We have dinner together," the husband answered. "It can be...uncomfortable for me, but it's important."

"Child care?"

They started to speak at the same time. The husband deferred to the wife. She spoke haltingly.

"We...well, we've always split the homework. Also, Mike does a lot of things with Mikey on Saturdays, as always. One thing that's changed is...well, I used to go the gym..."

She paused, seeming to be fighting back tears.

"Um, go to the gym after work twice a week and Mike would pick up Mikey from school. But now, I'm not going to the gym, so I get Mikey pretty much every day, except some Fridays. Mike...well, he..."

The husband interjected. "I've been staying a little later at work most days, but I make an effort to get off early on Fridays if I can and spend time with Mikey and his friends at the school. He really enjoys it."

Obvious, so obvious. The child is holding them together—holding him together, at least. Maybe this is just the same old same old, after all. Some good signs, though—maybe I can help them.

"Communication?"

The wife responded. "It's...better than it was at first. But it's still so different. "So...formal. Businesslike."

She gasped at what she'd said.

"I'm sorry!" she said, looking at the husband. "You're trying, I—"

There was something in his face that the wife couldn't bear to watch. She addressed Dr. Seymour again.

"I know he's trying to keep things...calm...after what happened. I know I was the one who messed up, I just haven't been able to explain..."

Tears were flowing again now, but Dr. Seymour was not watching the wife. Surreptitiously, while taking notes, she was watching the husband.

He's playing the strong, silent type, but his body language gives him away. There's a lot of emotion underneath that exterior. He doesn't like to see her suffering, but he's suffering too, and comforting her would seem tantamount to conceding something.

"That night...after I found out," he spoke, "we started, but...well, Mikey woke up...then, for a few days, there just wasn't a good time...I mean, how do you...what do you...do you just sit down at the kitchen table and..."

The wife was watching him closely, trying to stay composed but losing the battle. Her hand was poised to reach out to him, but it just sort of fluttered with indecision.

The husband was losing the battle too. His voice had cracked at the end of his last remark. His eyes were moist.

"I decided..." he finally continued, gathering himself. "I said to her, 'Not in the house.' Not in Mikey's home. We can't risk him overhearing something, seeing someone...upset. That first night, I started to get angry and..."

Another long pause.

"Anyway, I said 'not in the house.' Plus, I just don't...I mean, I think if we're going to get through this, we have to...isolate it somehow. That's part of why I wanted this...this counseling. I know we have to talk, and we have to do it somewhere, just not in the house, and where else...?"

OK, that's enough tough stuff for now. Time's up, anyway.

"All right, we'll break there. It's a huge step you've taken, to seek help. Here's what I want to do: I'd like to get the lay of the land better. Next week, I'd like to meet just with Mike. Then, the week after, just with Jennifer. Usually we'll all meet together, but maybe not always."

The husband looked surprised and perhaps perturbed.

He doesn't understand why he should be first. He thinks I'm picking on him. Why, he thinks, when he's not the problem? Well Mike, maybe you're not the problem, but you are the patient—one of them, at least, and maybe the one that needs the most help.

The wife looked nervous.

She's afraid of what questions might be coming. Afraid to be judged. Afraid that things might get worse before they get better.

She might be right.

"Mike, I'll see you next week. Jennifer, in two weeks. Again, thank you for the privilege of helping you. Good night."

After they left, Dr. Seymour looked out her office window, which oversaw the parking lot. She hadn't meant to look for the couple; she just hadn't seen the outside world for many hours and wanted a peek. But as it happened, she did see the husband and wife come out of the building and get into their cars.

Cars—plural! They mentioned that they were both at home before their appointment. Still, they came here in separate cars!

* * *

At home that evening, Gayle (no longer "Dr. Seymour") fought her nightly battle...and suffered her nightly defeat.

She was good at getting inside other people's heads. That skill had brought her professional success. Unfortunately, she was not so good at getting back out of other people's heads when the work day was done. That difficulty had brought her a lot of misery.

Like many therapists, Gayle had her own therapist. For a while, that is, but it hadn't helped. Despite her own therapy, Gayle's cases continued to get to her. Her husband (now ex-husband) had cited that as one of the reasons for their divorce, years ago.

After the divorce, Gayle's difficulty with disengaging from her clients' lives brought on an obsession.

Almost every one of her cases involved, to some degree, sexual issues. After years of experiencing those issues vicariously—and perhaps because of some issues in her own life—Gayle had become obsessed with sex. Not sex acts, per se, but the psychology of sex.

She tried to pass off her growing obsession with sex as purely professional, but she never really fooled herself. Gayle got off on her explorations of sexual motivations, situations, and emotions. After a while, she surrendered to it, accepting it for what it was.

At its height, her obsession had blended dangerously with her tendency to bring work home with her. Eventually, the flow reversed, and her nightly mental escapades threatened to affect her work. She thought about quitting, but with little except her work in her life, she did what she had to do to hold onto it.

She set up a firewall between home and the office. At the office, she was the pure analyst, focused on her clients but detached. Once home, her clients ceased to exist.

To fill the void, she became an avid reader of erotica. First, it was mostly erotica that could be found in print. Then she discovered the world of online erotica...and fell into it.

Though she read widely, she found herself drawn to stories involving adultery --not surprising, she told herself, given her line of work. She also had a thing for non-consensual or reluctant sex, sometimes even a little softcore BDSM or mind control—it was something about the power dynamics, she assumed. She even started reading lesbian stories while treating a husband and wife whose relationship had been strained by the wife's affair with a female lover—but her interest in such stories were not purely academic.

Recently, Gayle had tried to quit reading so much. Every night, on her way home, she would swear that after dinner, she would do something else at her computer—or leave the computer off. Also, she'd swear she would not rely on an orgasm (or several) to put her to sleep. Tonight, after her appointment with the Chanceys, Gayle made the same resolutions.

Tonight, once again, she broke them. She spent an hour at her computer with her hand between her legs, teasing herself. Then, with all the stress of the day gone and her sexual batteries at peak charge, she retired to bed. She brought herself to two climaxes, one with the help of a toy.

Like every night, she rebuked herself. Tomorrow, she declared, would be different. Still, she consoled herself, she was doing better than before! Reading other people's fantasies was safer than creating her own, especially when her fantasies had been built around things...confidences...her clients had told her.

Or worse, built around the clients themselves.

* * *

"Hello, Mike, welcome back."

"Hello, Doctor. Are you surprised to see me?"

"No. It does happen sometimes—people quit after the first session. But something told me you're not a quitter, Mike. I knew you'd be back."

"Yeah, well," he said softly, while sitting down. "If there's any chance...but I have to tell you, I just don't know..."

He shook his head and took a deep breath.

"So, you wanted to see me first?"

"That's right, and you're probably wondering why."

"Yes," he indicated, not with words but with a shrug and a nod.

"Mike, last time Jennifer said she's the one who messed up. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"That's why I want to talk to you first. While it may seem odd to you, it's the way I do this. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And I need to tell you something up front. Whether or not the two of you get passed this is probably going to be up to you."

Mike looked uncomfortable. She continued.

"That's not to say that I'm going to let Jennifer off easy—far from it! And it's not to say that I'm positive that Jennifer's going to give you an opportunity to get past this. I have no idea yet what your situation is or whether it's salvageable. I'm just saying that if I can help Jennifer—and I probably can—then an opportunity may come. At that point, it's going to be up to you."

Mike's eyes fluttered around the room.

He's used to looking people square in the eye and saying what he has to say. But nothing in his life has prepared him for this situation. It's taxing his self-discipline to the utmost. 

"I've made my decision, don't worry," he finally said.

"Yes, I know, Mike. You've decided to tough it out, for your son's sake. That was obvious, last time. I'm talking about something different."

"Yeah...I understand. I'm sorry, I'll try not to shoot the messenger. I know you're very good at what you do. I'll try to listen to what you say."

"Then you're a step ahead of most men who sit in that chair at this stage. Usually, they just want blame assigned and punishment meted out. Are you looking for more than that?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Ready for some tough stuff?"

"Probably not...but shoot."

"Okay...Why are you here?"

After a long pause, Mike answered.

"I don't know what happened, exactly. That's part of the problem. I know a few things that I found out myself and there are a few things she told me. I just don't know if I have the whole story. And like I said last week, trying to talk more about it at home...no way. I can't let it...infect that environment."

Another long pause. Gayle prompted him to continue.

"Okay, let's start with what you found out on your own."

Mike sighed deeply, then told her about that terrible Sunday ("Black Sunday," he'd come to think of it). The telephone call from Susan Miller. The card and the drawings from the hospital. The visit to the hospital. Then, the crushing intuition and discovery at the gym.

Finally, the look on Jennifer's face. The look even before he said...the name. The look that confirmed everything he suspected. The look that meant life, as he knew it, was over.

Dr. Seymour was intrigued. She'd heard so many infidelity stories, but this one had something odd about it. Once again, she thought this new case might be different.

"So, what did Jennifer say when you confronted her?"

"Well, as I told you last session...it wasn't exactly a good conversation. And honestly, I don't remember the whole sequence of events. I wasn't...in my right mind. But by the time we called it a night, here's what she'd said.

"She told me she met him at the gym. She said one day when they were talking, he mentioned he was a volunteer at a hospital. She said...she said he invited her to go with her one night, and she said 'yes'.

"And that's how it went...for weeks. She saw him at the gym twice a week. She met him at the hospital on Friday nights. Then came a night when one of the kids died."

Mike's voice—already strained from the beginning—was now breaking up. He was breathing sharply and irregularly, as if his airways were constricted. Dr. Seymour offered him a glass of water. He took a drink and continued.

"So...that night, she got to the hospital and was told that this kid had died. She was devastated. I can believe it...you have to know Jennifer, how much she loves kids. And there's the thing with her sister..."

Yes, she mentioned that briefly last time. Have to ask her more about that.

"Anyway, I already knew about the kid. I was there, of course, when she came home that night. We talked about it the next day. What I didn't know, of course, was...damn it."

His voice cracked. He took another drink. While putting the glass down, he suddenly halted and stared at it. He looked like he wanted to throw it.

"A drink...oh god, she said...she said they left the hospital and went for a drink. She said she broke down, and he...oh fuck...um, sorry..."

Dr. Seymour shook her head dismissively.

"Um, she said he...comforted her...that they were hugging, and...and..."

Frustrated—by what Jennifer had done, or his inability to spit it out, or maybe both—Mike slammed his thigh with a tightly curled fist. He looked down, seemingly amazed at how hard he'd hit himself. Relaxing his fist, he slowly continued, his voice barely a whisper.

"She said it got a little physical. She said there was...some touching. And some...kissing."

Mike closed his eyes. He seemed to hold his breath. After what seemed like nearly a minute, he finally let it out with a gasp.

"But then, she said, she came to her senses. She...how did she put it? She 'remembered' me. Something about our wedding vows. So she stopped it...stopped it from going farther. She got up and left. And she hasn't seen him since."

The basic elements of the tale weren't much compared to others that Dr. Seymour had heard. But there was something about the way Mike told it, something about the context for it, the impression of the couple that she'd gotten at the first session...

"Do you believe her?" Dr. Seymour asked.

"About not seeing him? Yes, but only...only because she's been with me or Mikey, the whole time. She quit the gym. She quit the hospital. Between working and taking care of Mikey, she doesn't have time to...sneak around..."

"Not anymore," he added quietly, with a sudden burst of venom.

Another pause, then another question.

"That's all she told you, Mike?"

"Well, pretty much...I mean, there were variations on it, repetitions...like I said, it wasn't a normal conversation. It wasn't like you and me talking here now. It wasn't, 'How was your day?' 'Mmmm, I ran into this hot guy, and...'"

He arrested the sarcasm, but she could tell there was plenty more he was holding back.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 02



"Sorry. It was hard to take, you know? And after a while...especially after the second time we woke Mike up...well, I just shut it down. Since then, like I told you last week, there just hasn't been a time...or a place...and...well, I'm scared to death."

It was risky, but Dr. Seymour hazarded an observation.

"Mike, I need you not to shoot the messenger now, okay? What you've said so far...well, of course it's terribly disturbing. But on the scale of what I deal with day in and day out, a little kissing and touching while in an extremely disturbed and emotional state—look, of course it's beyond inappropriate, but maybe not a marriage-breaker?"

Mike closed his eyes again. His face and body tightened, as if he were wrestling to get something inside him under control. Dr. Seymour could almost hear a growl.

"But there's something more, isn't there?" she asked.

"Yeah. She swore that they never...never had sex. Never fooled around or kissed before that night. Never saw each other except at the gym or the hospital. That they were just friends."

"But you don't believe that?"

Mike snickered.

"At some point...again, this is all a jumble to me...she admitted that she'd been attracted to him. She kept insisting, though, that she didn't intend for anything to happen, that they were just friends, and that nothing did happen...until that night." "You don't sound convinced."

He looked Dr. Seymour directly in the eyes.

He's wondering if I'm convinced. 

"I'm not stupid. I was blind, maybe...but not anymore. Here's the thing: She lied to me! She lied to me about who got her involved with the hospital. She lied to me about the hospital's rules, to keep me away. She never said anything about this guy, not once. And as for not having sex..."

It seemed to take tremendous effort on Mike's part to finish the sentence without breaking down. His eyes were closed, and the level of his voice dropped to a whisper.

"...when she came...when she came home that night...she...she ran upstairs and took a damn shower!"

The plot thickens. Disturbing stuff, certainly. But he's still holding something back. 

"Mike, your suspicions are natural. I'm not saying they're correct—just understandable. But there's still something else bothering you, yes?"

Mike shrugged.

"Mike, you haven't said much about him."

Mike's eyes shot open. In them, Dr. Seymour saw a flash of light.

Reflected light, almost. Like the eyes of a cat...in the dark. 

"I just thought I was done with it a long time ago. You know, you marry someone, you think she loves you, the years go by..."

"Done with what?"

"Competing. Especially...with guys like him. Players."

Lots of overtones in his voice there...

"I mean, come on. This wasn't some accidental thing. It wasn't a misunderstanding on his part."

"What do you mean?"

"This guy...he chats her up, gets her to notice him, invites her to join him in a worthy cause...don't tell me all that was innocent. No, the guy wanted to get into her pants. Even though she has a ring on her finger! The asshole...

"But look, he's not the issue. I mean, I could clobber the guy—maybe I should—but Jennifer, she...she's the one wearing the ring! Did she forget that? Doesn't that mean anything to her anymore?

"Okay, so this guy put some moves on her, but she fell for it! No, I take it back—she went for it! My wife, my so-called loving wife...sneaking around on me with another man, going out for a drink with him... Kissing him! Letting him paw at her! Maybe more, oh god... After all this time, when I thought I was safe..."

"Safe?"

A long pause. Mike seemed to be reflecting.

"Well...I wasn't exactly 'lucky with love' before Jennifer. I was that guy that girls liked as a friend but...you know. Jennifer wasn't the first girl I fell hard for, but she was the first girl I fell hard for who was willing to go out with me—at least, to keep going out with me.

"And I was always so...terrified...that it was going to end. Jennifer was, well, the kind of girl I thought was out of my league. Even when we steady, hell even once we were engaged, I couldn't shake this feeling that it wouldn't last...that some player would come along and..."

There's that word again. And that's your baggage, isn't it, Mr. Chancey? No wonder why Jennifer's actions, though tame by my frame of reference, have hit you so hard. You thought you had the perfect life, but now you're that teenager or college kid again, brimming with insecurity. 

Agitated, Mike had stopped talking. He shrugged and looked towards the window. Dr. Seymour knew what was coming. Silence reigned for several minutes. Then, somewhat recomposed, Mike asked the question she'd been waiting for.

"So, what do I do?"

Always that question. 

"I wish I could just tell you, Mike. I will give you an opinion—when I have one—but I don't yet. I need to hear from Jennifer. Then, we need to meet together again; the two of you have to talk. Hopefully, I'll be able to give you some advice on how to move forward. But understand, it will just be advice."

Mike looked disappointed, but only slightly—as if he'd expected her response.

"Let me ask you this," she added. "Have you thought about what you want? The fact that you are here tells me that you want to move forward."

Mike closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He seemed to be fighting back tears again. Just barely, he won; but he did not open his eyes or speak.

Let's try a more specific question. 

"Are you still sleeping in the spare bedroom?"

Mike nodded affirmatively. He opened his eyes.

"I've got all my clothes in there now, too. Funny, we've used that room for out of town guests, occasionally. For a while, it was...well, in case we'd had another baby."

He sighed deeply and shook his head.

"I never thought it would become my room."

"Mike, have you thought about how long you can go on like this? Living in the same house but sleeping apart? And, I imagine, starting to live separate lives?"

"Yes...so far, the...um...cover story is working with Mikey. It's not a big deal to him. But he's not going to be ten years old forever. Someday...who knows, it could be any day...he's going to figure out that something's wrong."

"I'm hearing you say 'forever' and 'someday.' You seem to have contemplated...well, digging in for the long haul."

Mike chewed on that statement, then shrugged his shoulders.

"If it weren't for Mikey, I don't...I can't say I would still be living in that house. I didn't want to go home that night, after...things came to light. And I didn't want to stay at home, after she confirmed...

"Mikey's my only ray of sunshine right now. You know, that night, I could have ended up in some crazy place...or done something crazy...but I thought of Mikey, and I just barely held on. It—he—was the one bit of certitude I had left about anything. I'm his dad, and I'll always be his dad. If Jennifer wants to fuck other—"

Mike caught himself.

"Sorry. The point is, I could have run out on Jennifer, or maybe even kicked her out, but I couldn't do either one to Mikey. I just focused on him, and that's what I've been doing ever since."

"Mike," Dr. Seymour said soothingly. "I commend you for keeping your child in your heart and mind despite what you're going through. Some men are unable to do that. I've seen it many times.

"But let's go back to my earlier question. Have you thought about what you want? Staying together with Jennifer—at least, keeping up appearances—for Mikey's sake may not be a viable long-term strategy."

Mike's eyes bulged.

"Long-term strategy?"

He made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sneer.

"Long-term strategy? I just try to get through the damn day, Doctor! And the nights...the nights are worse... But one thing's for sure. I will never, ever quit on Mikey. As long as he's there, and as long as Jennifer doesn't...do it again, I will stay in that house and be Mikey's father, one hundred percent. Maybe you're right, Doctor; maybe that can't last. He's growing up so fast. Maybe we can't fool him forever. Sometimes I think he already suspects something..."

Probably. Never underestimate the perceptiveness of a child. 

"Mike, what about you and Jennifer? Are you telling me that you see your relationship as being one of convenience—or necessity—now?"

Mike chewed on that question for a long time.

"Here's the thing. I don't understand why this happened. I don't know how I could ever...it's not about loving her, I still do...I think. It's about wanting to love her. Right now, I don't want to love her..."

He paused, as if struck by what he'd said. Dr. Seymour noticed.

Your first insight! Good. Not a pleasant insight, of course, but an important one. To clear a hurdle, you have to see it. Now for some encouragement. 

"Mike, couples survive these things. Not all the time, but sometimes. I don't know any more about what happened than you do, but from what I've heard so far...let's just say that other couples have recovered from far worse infidelities than your apparent situation.

"One thing I can tell you, though, is that if the two of you are going to recover from this, both of you are going to have to want it. You're the one who's been wronged, but you can't just be along for the ride in this. Somehow—and I'll help you try to figure out how—you're going to have to contribute."

Mike tensed and fidgeted. When he finally relaxed, he nodded.

"Believe me," he said, "I've thought about that. I've wracked my brains as to how it could have come to this."

That wasn't what I meant, but I was going to go there eventually...let him talk. 

"It's hard," he continued, "but I've tried to be objective. I'm a software engineer, right? When something goes wrong, we don't just cry about it or get mad, we fix it. Fixing it usually means finding out where we made a mistake.

"When I lie awake at night, sometimes the...despair and anger...passes and I find...well, sort of an eye in the hurricane. And that's when...when I think about whether there's something I did to cause this to happen. I've asked myself that many times.

"I'm not...you know, God's gift to humanity. People call me a boy scout, but I've made mistakes in life, and I haven't always...recognized them right away. If somehow I pushed her towards this...or let her drift because of something I wasn't doing...I'll take my lumps. I'll fix it.

"The odd thing is, no matter how angry I've gotten about all this; no matter how...ashamed, how humiliated I've felt...at times I've sort of hoped something could be traced back to me. It's weird, isn't it?"

"Mike," Dr. Seymour answered, shaking her head. "I'm not hearing anything I haven't heard before. Blaming yourself is not a perverse instinct. In fact, from what I've learned about you so far, I'm surprised it hasn't consumed you."

Time for a little push. I promised him an opinion sometime. 

"Here's my opinion—and it's just an opinion, right? You deal with software. Okay. Jennifer's like a trusted old—whatever you call it, program—that has suddenly behaved in a completely unexpected manner. I guess you might say it 'crashed.' Part of you wants to throw it out. Take the whole damn computer and drop it out a window. Yes?

"Um, yeah...that's...yeah."

"But when those hard feelings leave you alone for a moment, you realize you want to get that program working again! Except it's not going to be enough just to get it working—you want to trust it again. And you can't trust it if you haven't figured out the problem and fixed it. Am I close?"

"That's...yeah...I think that's it."

"Then here's the rest of it. You're humble enough to be able to admit a mistake. That's good. But what troubles you here is that you can't find one. If you could, you could fix it...and have some confidence that the problem wouldn't repeat. What do you call that?"

"Um...'stability'...the program is supposed to be stable. And yeah, I see where you're going with this."

Time to shut up. Let him take it from here. 

"If I'm to blame in any degree for what happened...well, maybe it would be easier to forgive her. Moreover...I might be able to change things. Change myself. Then, I might be able to believe that it wouldn't happen again. You see, forgiving her is one thing...but trusting? It just seems...impossible right now.

"And I heard what you said about contributing. About being part of the solution. I'll admit, I haven't given her a break since this all started. Not one...I'm...ashamed to say. It's just that...well, those moments of clarity I have? I have them in the dark. When I'm alone.

"Then, every time I see her...when I'm around her...it's like a poke in the eye. A knife in the gut. Given that, am I supposed to...supposed to go up to her and ask her if I did something wrong?"

He shook his head.

"No. No way. We're married, right? If I let her down, somehow...okay, I'm not perfect. But she should have told me! You don't just...I mean, what could I have done that was so bad to make her lie to me? To have an affair?"

The moment of clarity was over. Mike was out of the eye and back into the hurricane.

"She said she kissed him! That they 'made out!' And oh Jesus can that really have been all that happened...that night...all those weeks..."

Damn it, I let this go too far. I hope he'll still listen to this last bit. 

"Mike, I'm back to 'what do you want?' I think what I'm hearing is that you want to know why. That's perfectly natural. Sometimes, it's necessary. But I have to warn you...sometimes it doesn't help. Sometimes it just makes things worse. I want you to think about that between now and our next session, okay?"

Tears forming under his closed eyes, Mike nodded in agreement.

"Also, I need to warn you that there isn't always a logical explanation for everything we do. You're used to dealing with programs. Something goes wrong, maybe the reason is hard to find—but there is a reason, somewhere. If you're smart enough—if you work hard enough—you find it. Right?"

Another affirmative nod.

"Well, people aren't always like programs. I'm trained almost to treat them like such, and in some ways what I do is like what you do—engineer things. Reverse-engineer things, I should say. I'd be pretty useless if it never worked, and I think in your case, we will find some reasons. But I want you to think about the possibility that there was no reason—at least, none that will ever make sense to you."

Opening his eyes, Mike looked at her questioningly.

"Finally, to get to the why, we might have to go over the how and what. You suspect that Jennifer hasn't told you the whole story. What you know is already killing you; are you sure you want to know more? What if there is more? Is it really going to do you any good to know? Or is it just going to set you back...maybe too far?"

Mike sighed, "Doctor...I'm hoping you can tell me."

"Mike, I will give opinions...and advice. But what I've found is, few people do anything—or stick to anything—just because I tell them to. You need to bring your own insights to the table. I need your help as much as you need mine. So think about these questions I've asked you, and I'll see you in two weeks."

"Okay...will do," he said, and departed.

* * *

Dr. Seymour took a deep breath. Before leaving the office and her work persona—and hopefully, her work—behind, she jotted down a few notes about her session with Mike.

After two interviews, no sign of previous strain in the relationship. No indication of past dalliances on her part—or his—or other circumstances that led to her indiscretion with third party. Husband is probably correct that he has not been told the whole story, but whole story could be pretty unremarkable.

Still, recovery will be a challenge. Husband has high moral standards, believes in discipline and self-control. Wife's actions, even if no worse than what he's learned so far, already put her well out of bounds by his rules. Add to the mix his deep-seated insecurity, erupting now like a volcano that had been dormant...

Let's just hope there isn't more to the wife's story.

On the drive home, Dr. Seymour went through her mental ritual of letting go of the day and turning into Gayle. It was a strange and not very stable or satisfactory dual life, but it was a work in progress, and one that she had to keep up. She needed to protect her professional life at all costs.

All costs? I hardly have a personal life anymore. And what I have, I'm ashamed of.

Though drive time was supposed to be "letting go" time, she couldn't help but think about her new case—especially, Mike. After her own failed marriage and her somewhat sordid experiences with men since, Gayle couldn't imagine squandering a relationship with someone like Mike.

Maybe there's something I don't know yet. But if they were even half the happy couple they described, if he's even half as legit as he seems—how could she blow that? Was this James really that enthralling? Or, did I nail it too well with my metaphor—is Jennifer unstable? Has some sort of disorder? Needs a psychiatrist, not just a relationship counselor? 

Gayle was still willing to bet that when all was revealed, this would be just another case of boredom, lack of attention and vulnerability combining with infatuation, resulting in a tame and short-lived dalliance. Yet, there still seemed to be a promise of something more.

Mike did well tonight. Better than most. I hope, for his sake, this is a molehill and not a mountain. Problem is, even a molehill will seem like a mountain to him.

It's too bad he wasn't able to catch it and nip it in the bud. He missed so many clues! To me, the signs would have been obvious. But I'm so jaded from everything I've experienced myself and everything I've experienced vicariously through my clients. Here's a man full of love and trust and completely devoid of guile. He never saw it coming. 

Gayle's thoughts started to slip into a dangerous zone.

It's sad. I can't remember the last time I had a male client who seemed so innocent and undeserving of what his wife did. If I had man like that...stable, reliable... Not heart-stopping handsome, but pretty cute...eager to please... 

Gayle snapped out of her internal monologue. This was out of bounds. Farther out of bounds than she'd been in a long time.

At home, she managed to avoid thinking about her new case, but her nightly reading drifted decidedly in its direction. Avoiding the usual adultery stories about cheating wives, Gayle read several stories about vulnerable husbands being seduced by "other women." Women with excellent grasps of male psychology and sexuality.

When she climaxed in bed that night, Gayle was imagining herself riding the hard dick of a man who was moaning her name. He bore no physical resemblance to Mike Chancey. But the concept of a Mike Chancey—well, perhaps that had something to do with the intensity of her orgasm.

* * *

"Hello, Jennifer, welcome back."

Jennifer was well-dressed. Her hair and make-up were nicely done.

She wants to impress. With her appearance!

"How have things been since our first meeting?"

"Um...a little better. Some ups and downs, I guess...but Mike's made a few gestures. Especially since you talked to him last week. Thank you."

"Jennifer, I'd like to think I'm going to help both of you, but I didn't tell Mike to do anything in particular. Now, we have a lot to talk about tonight, and I'm afraid it's going to be tough stuff. Are you okay with that?"

"Um...yes."

Not very convincing, but good enough. 

"Okay. What I want to do first is confirm some things Mike told me. The things you told him about what you did."




Tunnel of Love Pt. 02



"You...you talked about that?"

"Yes. Mike didn't tell you?"

"No. We...we didn't talk about...we're still not talking about any of it at home."

"Well, here's my understanding."

Dr. Seymour relayed what Mike had told her. Jennifer confirmed it, breaking into tears halfway through. She seemed relieved when it was over.

Because so far it's still contained. I haven't asked her if there's more to the story. She's waiting for that, but tonight is not the night. I can't be the first one to hear it. 

"Jennifer, last time you were here, we talked a little about your history with Mike. I'd like to go into that in some more detail now. Can you give me some examples of some things Mike has done in the last year or two that have made you happy?"

Jennifer's eyes brightened. Dr. Seymour got an earful. After a while, she had to interrupt.

"Okay, that's...enough. Now, can you give me some examples of some things Mike has done that have made you unhappy?"

Jennifer looked puzzled.

"Unhappy?"

"Yes."

"Um..."

Jennifer was silent for a while. When she finally cited a few situations, they were unremarkable. Typical day-in-the-life-of-a-married-couple stuff. Some minor misunderstandings, a disagreement over money...

"Jennifer, sometimes people in your situation...people with the weaker hand, so to speak...are reluctant to appear critical of their spouses. Don't think of appearances here or be worried about what you think or feel. Honesty is key here."

"Um...I'm not...really, those are the things that come to mind."

"So there's nothing that's really stuck with you for a while?"

"Well...no."

"Okay. Before you met James—"

The name visibly rattled Jennifer.

"—how would you have described your satisfaction with your relationship with Mike?"

Jennifer started to sob. After a moment and still a bit shaken, she answered.

"It was great. It was great! Mike is...he was...a rock, you know? Just...solid. I always knew that he loved me. Never questioned it."

Took it for granted? Never valued it much in the first place?

"That's why," Jennifer continued, "it's so hard now...especially right after. He was so distant, that night. So cold. He was a different person..."

"Jennifer, it's very common for people in long-term relationships to get a little...well, bored with each other. Did you ever feel that way?"

"No! I mean, yeah, I guess you could say that we're a little boring. People have even said that to us, kind of as a joke, but we laugh with them! Me especially; I'm the more boring person. That's one of the reasons why I love Mike...he lets me be, well, kind of lazy. Boring."

"He lets you inhabit your comfort zone?"

"Yes, that's exactly it!"

Time for a push. Not too far, though. Let's see if she can get there herself. 

"Jennifer, as much as we like our comfort zones, sometimes when we get outside them—or get taken outside them—it can be exciting. Do you agree?"

Watching Jennifer's reaction, Dr. Seymour imagined her as a cartoon character. A light bulb appeared above her head. It switched on, illuminating the room.

"Um...I...suppose. Maybe. Sometimes."

"Why do you think that is?"

Jennifer thought for a while.

"I guess...well, when something makes you feel nervous or scared, it also makes you feel...well, more alive, I guess."

Very good. 

"But—well, I'm not one of those 'extreme' people in the news and stuff. I can't imagine living on the edge all the time."

You like having that comfort zone to fall back into. That's how it was during your time with James. You had adventure with him, comfort at home. 

"And," Jennifer continued, "I was never...unsatisfied with Mike...I love him! I've always loved him! To think...that he doesn't believe...that you don't believe...That night, after he found out, you know what he said? He said, 'Did you ever really love me? Has it all been a lie, like the lie you told me about Susan?' Then he said...something about me wearing...a 'brilliant disguise'..."

Interesting phrase. Bet it comes from somewhere. I'll have to look it up. 

"How did you respond?"

"That was when Mikey woke up...for the second time...but it's not true. A disguise? I wore my heart, on my sleeve, for him...ask anyone, anyone who knows us!"

Jennifer straightened in her chair and crossed her legs.

"Do you think guys don't hit on me? Especially at the gym, when my boobs are bouncing around? Guys hit on me all the time! I've always blown them off, never given them the time of day...never gave a thought to anyone but Mike..."

"Never, that is, until you met James?"

The question rattled Jennifer. Dr. Seymour had debated whether to ask it. It was more confrontational than she'd intended this session to be. She decided to retreat a little.

"Jennifer, why do you think guys hit on you all the time?"

Jennifer looked confused, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Um...well, you know guys, always checking us girls out and...well, I'd like to think I'm attractive. I work hard to keep in shape, look good..."

You are attractive, you know it, still you like other people to confirm it? 

"James," Dr. Seymour said, watching Jennifer again flinch at the name. "He's a hunk, I take it?"

"Um...I guess you could say that."

"How would you say it, Jennifer?"

"Um, do I really..."

Dr. Seymour raised her eyebrows.

"Okay," Jennifer continued, "he was...you know, I really don't want to..."

Eyebrows still raised, Dr. Seymour tilted her head forward.

Out with it, Jennifer! 

"He was...um," Jennifer looked down to her lap and nearly whispered. "He was...the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Jennifer's words hung in the air, while Dr. Seymour reflected on them.

Hmm, hunk-a-saurus! So you got weak in the knees. But for a purportedly happily married woman, it's a long way from heart palpations to necking, tongue-dueling, and who-knows-what-else you did. Speaking of which... 

"So we've talked about your overall relationship with Mike. Let's get into something more specific. Did you ever hear that song, 'Let's Talk About Sex, Baby'?"

Dr. Seymour had only heard the song once and didn't know the lyrics. However, with women of Jennifer's generation, it seemed to be a good icebreaker. The influence of music on a person's psychology was something Dr. Seymour had always felt she'd underestimated. It was something she needed to study up on; if only her nights weren't taken up with...

"Yes, I've heard the song," Jennifer said—guardedly, yet betraying the hint of a smile.

"So here goes: Sex. You and Mike. Discuss."

"Um..."

"Good? Bad?"

"Good! Really good!"

With some further prompting, Jennifer went on to describe her sex life. She had the usual complaints about lack of time, lack of energy on occasions, the difficulty of getting "in the mood" amidst the distractions of work, homemaking and child-rearing.

"No complaints about Mike, though?"

"Gosh, no!"

"Can you remember the last time you had sex before you met James?"

The name shook her again.

"Um...yes. It was Monday morning. I remember because we...almost never...maybe never? In the morning, on a working Monday. And that afternoon is when...when I met..."

"Okay, so you remember. A little girl talk now, OK? Tell me about it that morning."

Jennifer blushed. Hesitatingly, she answered.

"We...had to be quick, you know. Mikey could have woken up at any minute. We had to get ready for work. He...um, you want details?"

Dangerous, Gayle, dangerous...but you have a legitimate need to know. There's a sexual angle to this case, for sure. 

"Some."

"Well, he...um...we were naked and he, um...did some foreplay...then I turned around and...bent over and...well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Did you climax?"

Jennifer blushed.

"Um, yes. I always...always. Except...one time, a week or so after the night at—"

She stopped suddenly.

The night at...where? Where did you "go for a drink" with James, Jennifer? 

"Um, between the night Kevin died and the night Mike found out, I was having some trouble then and one night when I was with Mike I didn't...but before that, always! He...he knows me, you know? He just knows me."

That can be good, and bad. 

"Have you had sex since Mike found out?"

"No. I've tried a couple times, but he just...I guess I shouldn't rush him, but it's hard. I love him so much, I want him...you know, just before he found out, we had the best...maybe the best ever..."

"Jennifer, help me out here. You spent time with another man without Mike's knowledge, right?"

"Um...right," she said, seeming to brace herself.

"You made out with him?"

Jennifer hesitated.

"Okay, yes. But—"

"Hold on, Jennifer. We're going to talk more about this with Mike. Here's my problem: Most of the time, in cases like yours, there's some previous strain in the relationship. Some discontent, maybe even anger. And underneath all that, there's some emotional need that isn't being met. But I'm not hearing anything like that from you."

"No...there was nothing!"

"And, from what I'm hearing—and how he comes across—your husband is a darn boy scout!"

Jennifer smiled.

"That's...that's another thing people actually say. And he was boy scout, literally."

"Okay. You need to know that it's hard for me to understand—and more importantly, for Mike to understand—how things could have happened as they did."

"I know! It's hard for me, even! But I think I can explain..."

"Okay. Get ready, because I think that's going to happen soon. Not just the why, but the what. Are you willing to talk about what happened with James—very explicitly, if necessary?"

Jennifer flinched.

"Um...does it matter?"

"It might. It's up to Mike, though. I've asked him to think about if he needs to know the details of your affair."

Jennifer flashed a defiant look.

"It wasn't...it wasn't an affair! We were just friends. I never meant...and I did not have sex with him! Ever! It wasn't even my fault, really...if you only knew..."

"Jennifer...Jennifer! Listen. Here's something else I want you to think about before next time: I want you to imagine Mike doing all the things you did. All of them, understand? And I want you to think about how you'd feel to learn about those things. Okay?"

"Um...okay."

"I want to change the subject now. I'm afraid the next subject isn't any more pleasant, but: I would like to hear more about your sister."

Jennifer took a deep breath and began to tell the story. Dr. Seymour interrupted her a few times with questions. She wondered if Jennifer understood their purpose.

"Have you ever talked with Mike, this much, about your sister?"

"Yes, of course. He's always been very sweet about it, but..."

Dr. Seymour waited.

"Well, Mike is kind of this tough guy. About physical things. Other things, well, he's almost a baby—I mean, he cries at movies! But physical pain...no. He tries to teach Mikey the same way. Sometimes...well, I don't know if he understands what it's like for other people who aren't so tough. What it's like for the rest of us to suffer, physically—or for us to see people suffer. That's partly why—"

Suddenly, Jennifer stopped.

Why what? Why...oh, look at her, she's exhausted. Enough for now. 

"Jennifer, we're already slightly past your session time. Let's call it a night, okay? But I want you to think about the questions I've asked you, before next week's session with Mike. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight, then."

* * *

Writing in her notebook, Dr. Seymour reflected on where the case stood.

Jennifer has two traits that have probably affected her behavior.

One is vanity. Possible influences: only child after sister's death, doting parents, reinforcement in adolescence and early adulthood from boys and men attracted to her. After so many years, maybe she took Mike's attention for granted...or just wanted more. Enter James, the "most beautiful man" she's ever met.

Ironically, fear of losing Mike now has her desperate for his attention again. Fact that he might not desire her anymore is eating away at her. But lingering vanity is an obstacle to awareness of how deeply she betrayed him. She's still defensive; perhaps she's even repressed some things.

Second trait is her affection for children. Possible transference from trauma over death of her sister when they were young. Clearly, it is a factor here, but how much can it explain what happened? And what does it mean for her and Mike, going forward?

Relevance/strength of sexual angle still underdeveloped, but it's there.

And there's...something else. Something bizarre. Something about the third party, I think. A stud, who happens to work with terminally ill children? Hits all of her weak spots at once—a perfect storm?

Yes, there's something else...I feel it, but I can't put my finger on it. Whatever it is, she hasn't told Mike about it yet. Is it part of the "explanation" she wants to offer? Or something she's trying to hide? If so, why? 

At home that evening, Gayle found it difficult to maintain the firewall. As she'd mentioned to Jennifer, there were things about the case that didn't seem to make sense. The case had a hook in Gayle. No matter how hard she swam away from it, it kept reeling her back in.

She though some more about the vanity issue. It was funny in a way, because Jennifer seemed like a boring person. She'd even admitted it. She was nice, sure; maybe a good teacher—but basically unremarkable, except for her looks.

Perhaps that's why her attractiveness means a lot to her. It's how she's used to being validated? Take that away, and she lacks self-esteem?

But fuck, she is indeed pretty. And that body... 

"Stop it!" she said to herself out loud.

Don't go there. You cannot go there. 

Desperate for an escape, she went online. After a while, she forgot about the case—at least, consciously. But when she came across a lesbian story by a well-regarded author, she clicked on it without hesitation.

The story covered a familiar premise. It concerned an older woman introducing a reluctant but ultimately submissive younger woman to lesbian sex. The descriptions of the younger woman's thoughts and feelings were exquisite. And although Gayle usually reserved her orgasms for bedtime, she lost control and came very hard when—in the story—the younger woman first dipped her tongue into the older woman's pussy.

* * *

The Chanceys' second joint counseling session did not go as Dr. Seymour expected.

To her great surprise—and, manifestly, Jennifer's—Mike did not ask for a full account of Jennifer's affair. He only asked Jennifer to reconfirm a few things: That she'd never stopped loving him, that she hadn't intended to start an affair, that she'd only "gotten physical" with James that one night, and that it had stopped well short of sex—including "Monica Lewinsky sex."

After Jennifer affirmed those points, Mike took a deep breath and turned to Dr. Seymour.

"Let's move on," he said, "but here are my conditions: First, I reserve the right to ask more questions if I find out that Jennifer has told any lies of which I'm not already aware. Second, I'm not forgiving anything—at least not yet. Third, I'm not promising that if I do forgive her, that everything will then be fine."

Dr. Seymour turned to Jennifer.

"Jennifer, are you okay with this?"

Somewhat nervously, Jennifer agreed to Mike's conditions. Then, she proceeded to apologize for deceiving Mike, for not going straight home the night after Kevin died, and of course for "getting physical" with James. She offered explanations—mostly, having to do with her sister—but she conceded that they were not excuses or justifications.

"Mike, I'm so sorry. You have to believe me, though, that I didn't mislead you just for the sake of spending time with...him. It was to spend time with the kids. And that night when little Kevin died...it shook me up so bad, Mike. I was out of my mind, and James was with me and I just...I just lost it, Mike.

"But it was wrong, baby. I was stupid, I was weak, and I hurt you. I hope you'll forgive me, but I know it's a lot to ask. Right now...right now I just hope you'll believe me that I didn't mean to hurt you and that I am sorry. Not just sorry that you found out and got hurt; sorry that it happened at all."

It was an emotional address. When Jennifer was done, Mike seemed relieved, even appreciative—but ambivalent. He thanked Jennifer, genuinely, but there was no warm embrace, no tearful reconciliation. He stared at his hands, one and then the other, as if terrible words were written on them.

Jennifer winced. So did Dr. Seymour.

It still hurts too much. Belief, if it comes, will be a big step, but forgiveness will be an even bigger step. And after forgiveness—what? Love and intimacy, or just friendship and cooperation?

It's funny, all those stories I read about forgiveness, as if that's the only issue with reconciliation. Forgiveness and divorce are not mutually exclusive. 

* * *

As the weeks went by, the Chanceys' case continued to intrigue Gayle. Increasingly, it was the one case she allowed herself to think about while at home. She told herself that it was okay; it was a special case, the one for which she'd been waiting.

She even brought the file home one night. Like all her files, it had a case number and the parties' names on the jacket. "Chancey, John Michael." "Chancey, Jennifer Charlotte."

J.C. and J.C. Make it three J.C.'s—add James Coltez, mystery man. Or maybe four J.C.'s...as in Jesus Christ, Gayle, you brought a file home with you? 

Gayle realized that she was on a slippery slope. She promised herself she would not slide. But in fact, the "slope" was more like an escalator; even though her feet were planted firmly, she was being taken down.

* * * * *

On his right hand Billy'd tattooed the word "love" And on his left hand was the word "fear" And in which hand, he held his fate Was never clear

CHAPTER FIVE: Scenes from the Home Front

Weeks before the counseling started. Sunday—"Black Sunday"—long after dark:

Mike and Jennifer were downstairs, in the family room. The flickering images on the television and the glow through the doorway provided the only light. The television was muted; the only sounds in the room were those of Jennifer crying and Mike yelling.

"DID HE HURT YOU? DID HE RAPE YOU?"

Until this moment, Jennifer had anticipated that if Mike were to discover anything about her adventure with James, she would tell him about Peter's scheme and James' role in it, and Mike would forgive her. Just this day, in fact, Jennifer had assured herself that Mike would not be angry with her, that he would applaud her for standing up to those bastards, and that their marriage would quickly recover. However, in the face of Mike's blistering questions, Jennifer began to realize how wrong she'd been.

For one thing, Jennifer had never seen Mike as angry as he was now. His anger was raw, but there was calculation in it. She was terrified by the way he moved (no, prowled) around the room, by the growl in his voice, by the almost predatory look in his eyes.

In this moment, Jennifer realized with amazement but certainty that her husband Mike Chancey was capable of killing someone. Maybe her, though he hadn't laid a hand on her; on the contrary, he'd been keeping a distance between them. But James...Peter...one or both of them, Jennifer thought, could be injured or dead before the night was over.

Yet Mike wasn't a natural born fighter, much less a natural born killer. James was taller, stronger. Mike could take Peter in a fistfight, no doubt, but Jennifer did not put it past Peter to have a gun in the house.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 03



It's just nobody knows honey where love goes But when it goes, it's gone, gone When you're alone, you're alone ...when you're alone, you ain't nothing but alone

CHAPTER 7: Saturday Night Fevers

Jennifer was on her knees. In her hand was a very large cock. It belonged to a stunningly handsome man, sitting naked on a couch.

"Oh James," she said, staring at his manhood lovingly, "it's so beautiful!" The man watched her solemnly.

"And so thick!" Jennifer added, while squeezing the base of it gently. "My hand barely fits around it!" The man nodded stoically, as if he'd heard it said many times.

"And sooo long!" Jennifer marveled, placing a second hand on the shaft. "Not even both my hands can cover it all!"

Jennifer pumped the man's rod slowly. As she did, the huge head alternately disappeared into her hand and reappeared. Soon, her hand was glistening with pre-cum.

Locking eyes with the man, Jennifer asked teasingly, "You want me to lick this?"

The man lifted his eyes from hers and looked elsewhere. Following his eyes, Jennifer looked where a camera might once have been; in its place, now, stood a man. Jennifer smiled at him.

"Hi, Mike! You know I've always loved you and will love you forever. But I just have to taste this cock!"

Turning back to the man on the couch, Jennifer removed one of her hands from his dick and slowly licked the long shaft. After a while, she paused, looked up, and smiled mischievously. Placing the tip of her tongue just under the head of his cock, she leaned towards him.

Her tongue slowly slid down the shaft. The head entered her mouth. Eyes still locked with the man's, she sucked on his cock and began to moan...

After a while, Jennifer mounted the couch and straddled the man. Mike watched in horror as she lowered her pussy onto the man's upright pole. "Oh god, it's so big," Jennifer moaned, "it's filling me...like I've never been filled! It's huge...but I'm so wet, so open for you, James...for your cock...your cock...ohmigod I'm coming...coming so h-hard!"

Suddenly, Mike was sitting on the couch, alone. Still immobile and mute, he heard sounds coming from another room. Perhaps a bedroom?

"Yes, James, spread my legs! Hold my ankles! Oh god, I can't wait to feel that AHHH! Yes, put it in me, all the way! Oh god James fuck me...fuck my pussy...oh fuck I'm going to come again!"

* * *

Mike bolted upright in his bed. He was panting and shaking; his heart pounded. From a fitful sleep, he was suddenly awake—as awake as a person can be.

He was, however, disoriented. He looked around, barely perceiving things in the near-darkness. James and Jennifer could not be seen nor heard. Slowly, Mike realized he was no longer in James' apartment. He could move—and, as he found, scream.

The first night at the hotel, Mike did not sleep at all. The second night, he had the terrible nightmare. He'd had that nightmare, or something like it, every night since for a full week.

He thought back to the last time he'd been home. Instead of making Jennifer a candlelight dinner, as he'd intended, he'd packed up some things. Opening the front door to leave, he'd paused...and cried.

I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm so sorry.

With his eyes closed, his mind had replaced the image of the doorway with another image. He'd seen himself back at the wall. Across from him, through the breach, had stood the barbarians—drums quiet, weapons dropped, arms open and inviting. With grim determination, Mike had stepped through the breach...and joined them.

Behind him, he'd heard a sound, like a door closing. Yet when he'd turned and looked, all he'd seen was the wall. Finally, the breach had been sealed. The wall had been restored.

But Mike was now on the other side.

* * *

Jennifer lay in bed. It had taken a long time to get Mikey to sleep. He'd kept asking when Daddy would be home. Jennifer was running out of false answers.

The day before—Friday afternoon—Jennifer had been keeping an eye on the kids playing in the yard when suddenly, Mike appeared. She did not know what to do, so she kept talking to one of the moms, trying not to tremble. Mike found Mikey and started a game with the kids. Jennifer watched secretly from a distance, even when her conversation ended.

Someone approached Mike—a blonde woman. It was that skank, Collette Davis. What was she doing, talking to Mike?

And why isn't he brushing her off? Is he...smiling at her? Ohmigod, did he just...put his hand on her shoulder for a second?

Jennifer watched with rising alarm as Mike and Collette continued to talk. When the kids moved away, Mike's face seemed to darken. As Collette listened to him, her face seemed to darken too. She gave Mike a hug, whispered something in his ear, and walked off to collect her son.

What did I just see?

Jennifer made her way towards Mike. Spying her, he turned his back and started to retreat.

"Mike!" she shouted, speeding up. "Mike, please don't make me...scream."

Mike stopped, shook his head, and turned around.

Jennifer studied him. He looked like he hadn't slept all week. His eyes were cold, his jaw clenched. He folded his arms and looked down at his feet, waiting for her to speak.

"Mike," she said in a quavering voice, "Why won't you answer my calls? Where are you staying?"

"At a hotel," he replied, looking away from her. "I don't want to talk to you, Jennifer. I'm done talking. Tell Dr. Seymour thanks for trying. I'll be in touch about...things."

As Mike turned and started to leave, Jennifer begged him to stay. He stopped but kept his back to her. Jennifer continued.

"Mike, how can I explain if you won't talk to me? The video...it wasn't what it seemed!"

"Oh, I think it was exactly what it seemed," he said sternly. "Or are you telling me it was fake? That it wasn't you? Because it sure looked and sounded like you!"

Jennifer looked down and sighed.

"Yes, Mike," she said in a defeated tone, "it was me."

"So you and your stud are into videotaping, hey?"

"He wasn't my...I didn't know he was... Mike, what you saw me...do in that video, it was right at that part that I stopped and left!"

Mike made a derisive sound between a snort and a laugh. Jennifer wasn't sure he was even listening, but she continued.

"It's true! If you could only see the rest of it!"

In a flash, Mike turned around and pointed to his head.

"I SEE THE REST OF IT HERE, EVERY NIGHT, DAMN YOU!"

Jennifer was shaken. She took a step towards Mike, but he backed away. Then, he turned and left.

Now—two nights later, as Jennifer lay in bed—her mind raced. Mike probably thought that James had sent the video, but Jennifer knew better. James had no reason...

But Peter did.

That son of a bitch! 

Peter sent it; yes, she was sure of it. If only she could explain to Mike!

But Mike did not know about Peter. Jennifer had kept it that way. Now, she was trapped. Trapped by her own lies and omissions.

If she were to reveal Peter's scheme now, would Mike believe it? Even if he did, would the revelation of more lies and half-truths on her part just make things worse? Then again, could they get any worse?

A voice seemed to speak to her. A voice from the den. A voice from a photograph.

"Yes. Yes, it could get worse. If you had to face everything...everything..."

Were it not for Mikey, Jennifer would have drawn a bath and slit her wrists. She wondered if she could be strong enough to keep living, in such pain, for her son's sake. And even if she lived, would she ever sleep again? She wondered...and wondered...as sheer exhaustion set in.

* * *

Suddenly, Jennifer was outside Collette Davis' house. She recognized it, having been there once for Bobby Davis' birthday party. Mike's car was in the driveway. Jennifer walked to the front door, found it unlocked, and stepped inside.

She heard sobbing—it sounded like a man. Making a right turn, she found herself on the threshold of a living room. Across from her sat Mike, on a sofa, his head in his hands. She was about to go to him, when she felt a hand fall on her shoulder.

"I'll take care of him, Jennifer," a woman's voice said. "He needs me. He needs to be comforted."

Jennifer stood frozen as Collette passed her by and went to Mike. Collette was dressed in a seductive nightgown. Jennifer found herself unable to move or speak as Collette sat down on the sofa next to Mike.

Mike leaned his head on her shoulder. As he sobbed, she stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. In her mind, Jennifer shouted.

Stop it! Get away from him! Mike, please, get up!

As if in answer, Mike looked right at Jennifer and spoke.

"I need an escape, Jennifer. I need this. I'm sorry, but only Collette can help me with this pain."

He turned his head towards Collette, sobbing again. She put her arms around him and pulled his head against her breasts. As she resumed stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, his sobbing slowed, then stopped.

Mike lifted his head and gently, tentatively kissed her neck.

Jennifer's eyes bulged. She struggled but still could not move. Heart pounding, she mouthed words, but no sound came out. She only heard herself in her mind.

No, Mike, no! Don't kiss her! Please don't kiss her!

While Mike continued to kiss her neck, Collette's lips trailed down Mike's forehead to his eyes and cheeks. Meanwhile, she slipped her arms out of the straps of her nightgown, revealing her large, fair breasts. Pushing Mike's head down, towards them, she whispered to him soothingly.

"I know you want me, Mike. It's okay. You don't need her anymore. All she does is hurt you. But me...I'll heal you."

Jennifer screamed, but Mike and Collette seemed not to hear.

* * *

Dr. Gayle Seymour lay in bed, a candle burning on the nightstand. In her hand was a slender, smooth glass object that glistened with moisture. She casually stroked it against her slit, drawing it back and forth like a bowstring.

Following Jennifer's last appointment—undoubtedly, the last appointment either Chancey would ever have—Gayle had been so distracted at work, it had been embarrassing. After two days, she'd canceled all her appointments for the rest of the week. She'd gone so far over that she did not think she could ever get back. Her professional life—her real life—was falling apart.

Meanwhile, her fantasy life was taking over. She found herself powerless to stop it. She'd spent a third of Wednesday, more than half of Thursday, and nearly all of Friday at her computer, absorbing stories of all kinds from numerous different sites.

Along the way, for the first time, she'd tried to write a story of her own. It was just a collection of notes so far. It wasn't all that original, but then, what story hadn't been told somewhere, sometime, already?

The story centered on a buxom female therapist with a knack for hypnosis and a lack of morals. She was "treating" John and Charlotte, a couple whose marriage was on the rocks. The therapist's objective was to reunite the couple through an intense experience in which she would partake. At least, that was the excuse for the sex scene, which was running through Gayle's mind now.

The therapist rose from her chair, walked around to the front of her desk, and leaned against the edge. She stared at the hypnotized man and woman, their eyes closed, their breathing slow and deep.

"Are you ready to obey me?" she asked them.

"Yes," they answered.

"Stand up and take one step forward."

Complying, they approached her so that one stood to the therapist's left side and the other to her right. "Take off your shirts," she instructed them. As the husband bared his chest, she studied his broad shoulders and licked her lips. Then, examining the wife's deep, bra-clad cleavage, the therapist licked her lips again.

Turning back to the husband, the therapist took his hand and placed it on her cheek while placing her own hand on his cheek. "Clear your thoughts, John," she said. "Clear your thoughts of everything. Feel yourself wanting to kiss me. You want to kiss me so badly. Do you want to kiss me now, John?"

"Yes," he replied throatily.

She leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips. Quickly, he responded. She enjoyed herself for a while, then broke the kiss and turned to the wife.

Repeating the ritual of hands on cheeks, the therapist spoke to her. "Clear your thoughts, Charlotte. Clear your thoughts of everything. Feel yourself wanting to kiss me. You want to kiss me so badly. Do you want to kiss me now, Charlotte?"

"Y-yes," she replied tentatively.

The therapist drew the wife to her and kissed her passionately. At first the wife hesitated, but then she kissed back. Soon, their tongues were as involved as their lips.

Breaking the kiss, the therapist straightened and stepped back between the couple. "You are both feeling lust, now," she intoned, while removing her blouse. "So much lust," she chanted, unhooking her bra and placing it on her desk.

"Open your eyes," she commanded. "Look at my breasts. They captivate you. You want them, John. You want them, Charlotte. Each of you, raise a hand...place it on my breasts...yes, feel them...feel your lust build..."

The therapist enjoyed the feeling of their squeezing and caressing hands: the strength of his, the delicateness of hers. The therapist's nipples tingled, partly from the physical stimulation—but mostly from mental stimulation of being in control of the couple. Soon, the husband would be licking her pussy while the wife tongued her asshole...

On her bed, glass dildo thrusting inside her while her fingers danced on her clit, Gayle imagined the rest of the scene, spoke the therapist's lines, and climaxed.

It was a long time before she could think again. She covered herself in blankets, put the dildo on the nightstand, and blew out the candle. Sleep was quickly overtaking her, but she heard a voice inside her head. The voice of her story editor.

Better. Still too mechanical, though. Needs more work on the feelings, the emotions; the dialogue's a little rote, too. Finally, you need to work on the rest of the action—what happens after the therapist orgasms from their ministrations.

The couple, Gayle, they're the focus. You need to finish. You need to finish the story.

"Yes, Doctor Seymour," Gayle whispered before drifting into oblivion.

* * *

Collette Davis sat next to her son, Bobby, whose fever finally was coming down. The medicine was starting to have an effect. It was a miracle, she thought, that she even had any medicine in the house.

I only had the wrong kind of medicine here, and for too long.

She knew Bobby's fever probably wasn't serious—just one of those viruses that went around school, knocking kids out for a few days. Still, it was unsettling to feel a child's searing hot forehead, read a thermometer, and see a number over one hundred. When Bobby was much younger...when Richard was still around...at least she'd had some help, albeit begrudged help. Now, Collette had to weather these storms alone.

Bobby was falling asleep, but Collette resolved to stay with him for a while. She might even spend the night right there, in the chair, beside his bed. There was nothing inviting about her own bedroom; it was haunted with too many bad memories. Glancing in the bedroom's direction, she recalled one particular scene there.

Richard had pressed her for so long, she'd finally relented. If he really wanted it—if it might get it out of his system, improve things between them—maybe she could stand it. Plus, he kept promising her that she would enjoy it. She'd never really believed any of the rationales (hers or his), but out of desperation, she'd given in to his request.

The three of them had drinks in the living room before retiring to the bedroom. The other woman was dark-haired and lithe; Richard said he'd found her through some channel for these kinds of things. The woman seemed interested in Collette, but Collette sensed no warmth, no respect.

Collette's already-cold feet were freezing now, but she feared that if she tried to back out, Richard would cause a terrible scene. They'd brought a wine bottle upstairs, and Collette drank liberally from it. Due to the alcohol and the passage of time, Collette's memories of what happened next were incomplete.

...They undressed in stages. Hands and lips roamed from body to body. Collette was reluctant, but Richard and the woman prodded her on...

...Collette was lying down on the bed, on her back, with her head hanging off the edge. Richard's dick was in her mouth. He fucked her face while the woman got on the bed and straddled Collette's chest. Richard and the woman leaned towards each other and kissed. Soon, while still taking Richard down her throat, Collette felt fingers—a woman's fingers—stroking her mons and labia. The fingers disappeared for a moment, during which Collette thought she heard Richard make a wet, sucking sound. Next, Collette felt a palm on her mons and a moist fingertip grazing her perineum. It slid upward towards her vagina and entered her, up to the knuckle. Then, swirling, it slipped in deeper...

...Collette was on all fours, getting fucked by Richard from behind while the woman kneeled alongside them, kissing Richard. Richard reached underneath Collette and played with one of her breasts. Following suit, the woman did the same to Collette's other breast. Eventually the woman lay down on her back, perpendicular to Collette, with her head near Collette's knee. Then, the woman scooted backwards, until her head disappeared under Collette's waist. "Push her down a little," the woman said to Richard, who complied. Collette then felt something soft, warm and moist on her pussy. It touched her here and there, probing, until it found her clit. Then, swirling and stroking, it stayed there...

...The woman scooted out and repositioned herself in front of Collette, facing her. On her elbows and feet, like a crab, the woman crawled forward until Collette's head was between her thighs. The woman lifted her hips slightly and nodded at Richard, who placed his hand behind Collette's head and pressed it down...

..."I'm ready to be fucked," the woman said later. Richard pulled out of Collette and moved to the side as the woman did the same, leaving Collette by herself. Then, as the woman spread her legs invitingly, Richard moved up into a missionary position and entered her...

...Collette lay beside them, not knowing what to do. When it became clear that they had no further use for her, she left the bed and went to Bobby's room. They'd made arrangements for Bobby to stay elsewhere that night, of course. Collette crawled into his empty bed and cried herself to sleep, trying not to listen as Richard and the woman fucked the night away...

Bad memories and all, Collette thought, at least they had a house. At least Richard had left them that, when he moved out. In fact, in the divorce, Collette had gotten it free and clear—mortgage paid off—in exchange for reduced alimony and child support. She wasn't sure anymore if that had been a good deal, but at the time, keeping a roof over their heads had been her highest priority. And she'd wanted a clean, total break with Richard.

Collette looked at Bobby, wondering what dreams he would have this night. Would they be feverish dreams, full of monsters? Or worse?

Will you have that dream again where Daddy comes home? Lord, if I hear one more time that you've had that dream...it may send me back to the bottle.

Collette also wondered what lay in store for her that night. Now that she wasn't drinking herself to sleep anymore, she was having and remembering more dreams. Some were dark, but some were light. She'd even had a dream about Mike Chancey; a rather intense dream.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 03



Collette placed her hand on Bobby's forehead, smiled at the now-cooler feel of it, turned off the table lamp, and settled back into the chair to sleep.

* * *

Peter Wombert lay on his well-lit bed. Well-lit from certain directions, that is. Cameras were rolling—hidden cameras.

His dick felt great in young Genevieve Hartley's mouth. She was a good cocksucker. He'd trained her, after all.

Peter would not dream that night. At least, he would not remember any dreams in the morning. He never remembered his dreams, if he had any. He didn't care.

My life is a dream.

Peter also had little use for fantasies, as such. A fantasy, for him, was just a game plan. The game itself—the reality—was what he enjoyed.

My fantasies are reality. I've made them so. All but one, that is.

His one failure explained why, on this particular night, Genevieve Hartley was in his bedroom. She bore a certain resemblance to a young Jennifer Chancey. Even her nickname—Gen—was a reasonable approximation.

"That's it, Gen, suck my cock," he said casually before reflecting on recent events.

The private investigator who'd "couriered" Peter's little present for Mike had staked out the building, afterwards. Sure enough, not long after the delivery, Mike had emerged, looking hurried and shaken. He'd gotten in his car and driven straight home. The investigator followed.

How Peter had jumped for joy and laughed maniacally when he'd gotten the call that Mike was loading up his car with clothes and other possessions! In contrast, he hadn't quite known what to think when he'd heard that after driving away, Mike had briefly visited some office building. But then, what a fine bottle of wine Peter had opened when he'd gotten the call that Mike had then checked into a hotel!

It had gotten even better, though, because Peter's other private investigator had taken up a position at the Chancey residence when Mike had left. That investigator was on hand when Jennifer, driving like someone possessed, had pulled up to the house, screaming as soon as she'd opened the car door. Reportedly, the screams continued from one end of the house to the other, until a light went on upstairs and one final cry led to silence.

Fuck you, Jen. That's payback, Wombert-style.

Now you, Gen, I think it's time I fucked you properly.

While enjoying Genevieve's mouth, however, Peter couldn't stop thinking about Jennifer.

Now that Mikey's gone, I'm here, babe. No hard feelings; I'll take you in. As long as you take me in, like Gen's doing here.

Peter had already come once this evening, so he planned on drawing out his next orgasm. He made Genevieve get on her back, propped up on an elbow. Then, he straddled her, right in front of her face, and imagined her morphing into Jennifer.

Take it, Jen. Take my cock in your mouth.

Genevieve did. Peter began to thrust in and out.

"Do you like me fucking your face?" he asked.

"Mmmm..." Genevieve replied.

I love how you can't help but admit it, Gen. You're a good little submissive. Lucky for you that I helped you find out.

Now you, Jen...you might not like it. I used to imagine you liking it...loving it...loving me. Well, you blew it. Now you've been fucked a different way.

"Play with yourself," Peter commanded Genevieve. She complied.

That's right, put your hand between your legs, Jen. Rub your clit while I'm fucking your face. Hate how you're being used, but get wet and bothered all the same.

Peter continued thrusting through Genevieve's hand and into her mouth. Saliva and pre-cum were evident on both.

Oh, if I'd just had some leverage back then, Jen. If you hadn't convinced me that I had none, that I couldn't have you...I would not have been completely cruel. I might have let you stay with the boy scout; yes, definitely. I would have enjoyed fucking you on the side and sending you back to him, full of my cum. Like how I'll be sending Gen back to her unsuspecting wimp husband.

Peter briefly considered coming in Genevieve's mouth, but he wanted to prolong the tryst a little longer. Also, he wanted to see that look on her face when...

He pulled away from her and lay down, motioning for her to mount him. She did so, placing her hands on his chest. She began a slow grind.

We could have had so much fun, Jen. But instead, you pissed me off. Tell me, how did that work out for you?

Peter reached up and played with Genevieve's nipples. She responded by grinding a little faster, a little harder.

So what will you do, Jen, now that the boy scout is gone? Oh, I know you won't come to me. You won't turn to me for comfort. You made it clear that night that I disgust you. I'm sure my little fun with the video hasn't improved your attitude.

Keeping one hand on Genevieve's breast, Peter lowered his other hand and began to rub her clit with his thumb. Some women liked thumbs, some didn't, Peter had found. But he'd never asked Genevieve about her preference; it wasn't something you asked a slave.

I just wish this wasn't the end for us, Jen. I wish I had some leverage, now...something that you wanted; something that you needed. Mmmm, if you were here, in my house, pleading for it...ready to pay whatever price...

Like Gen here was willing, when her husband lost his job, they were deeply in debt, I happened to have an attractive opening for her husband on my payroll, and she happened to have three attractive openings—on her body—for me.

"Fuck me hard now, Gen," Peter said, increasing his attention to her clit. Tears were forming in her eyes, but she did not stop grinding on his cock.

I know you wouldn't want me now, Jen. You wouldn't beg for my cock. Not for real, at least.

Genevieve whimpered. Peter knew what that meant. "Are you going to come, Gen?"

"Y-y-yes...oh god..." she sobbed, tears streaming down her face now. Peter started bucking his hips while thumbing her clit strongly.

No, Jen, you'll never beg. But I do think you would come, Jen. I'm quite sure you would come. And that would be good enough for me—to see you hate it, fight it...and lose.

Like Gen here does...except now, she doesn't fight all that hard.

"Oh! Oh!" Genevieve cried as an orgasm ripped through her, making her bounce on Peter's cock. It brought him to the brink as well. His cock started to erupt.

Yes, Jen...to see you fight it...and fight it...and lose...

With those thoughts, Peter filled young Genevieve Hartley's tight, married pussy with his cum.

* * * * *

Sometimes mister I feel sunny and wild Lord I love to see my baby smile Then dark clouds come rolling by Two faces have I

CHAPTER 8: Restart / Switch User

Mike hadn't been hungry; these days, he wasn't eating much at all. On his lunch break, he'd substituted an errand for a meal. Now, back at work, he stared at the papers on his desk.

How did it come to this?

The cold formality of the document was a stark contrast to the warm, loving relationship he'd enjoyed for twelve years:

PETITIONER: John Michael Chancey

RESPONDENT: Jennifer Charlotte Chancey

I never liked my first name. Jennifer never liked her middle name. A case of "opposites attract," as they say? But they never say, "Opposites stay together."

Mike wasn't sure he was going to go through with it; maybe they would just stay separated, at least while Mikey was still a minor. But after the umpteenth nightmare, Mike had forced himself to see the lawyer, get some information, and maybe get the process started. The lawyer had been quick; he'd turned the paperwork around in just a day.

Strange. All the dating, the wooing. The engagement, the wedding. Twelve years...then you file this piece of paper, the lawyers handle it, and it's done. Your marriage is done...undone.

Yet, Mike thought, the paperwork was just that—paperwork—like a death certificate. And divorce was just a process—a ceremony—like a funeral. Before the certificate, before the funeral, someone dies; or, in the case of a marriage, some thing dies—a relationship.

The paperwork, the ceremony...they're not what kills it. It's already dead. 

Before the video arrived, Mike had come to believe Jennifer. That she'd not gotten physical with Coltez until that one night. That it had not been something she'd had planned. That it had been pretty tame. And most importantly, that she'd always loved him and always would.

Belief was one thing. Forgiveness was something else, and trust yet another thing; but he'd been moving towards them. He'd mostly gotten over how Jennifer deceived him in order to volunteer at the hospital. The fact that children were involved, terminally ill children—well, given Jennifer's personality and history, he could see how she could do something stupid over all that. In light of the consequences she'd suffered and the counseling she'd gone through, he didn't expect that she would deceive him again.

The physical stuff with Coltez had still been bothering him, but Coltez was a player, Jennifer was vulnerable...it was an unusual, improbable combination of circumstances. And she'd stopped, before it had gotten serious—or so he'd been led to believe. It was one isolated incident in an otherwise spotless twelve-year marriage, for which Jennifer seemed desperate to atone. The more Mike had reconnected with Jennifer emotionally and sexually, the more possible it had seemed to him that he could put the whole mess behind him.

But now that he'd seen the video...

She was full of shit all along. She didn't just "go for a drink," she went to his damn apartment. She didn't just get "a little physical," she lovingly sucked his dick and then fucked him God knows how many ways. And the guy's a stud—of course she wanted him all along; probably at first sight. 

All the questions that had haunted him after Black Sunday had returned with a vengeance. Had Jennifer ever really loved him? Had she thought she loved him, only to discover—twelve years later—that it was a shallow love, and that she wanted something more? 

Or is she just psychotic? Sick in the head?

The crazy thing, Mike realized, was that he still loved Jennifer. He suspected, however, that the Jennifer he loved was just a memory of someone who once was—or a fantasy of someone who never was. The "current" Jennifer, the real Jennifer, the Jennifer in the video—that woman obviously didn't want or need him.

But she broke it off, on her own initiative. She's been to counseling with me. She's been loving, sexual...

Heck, since I moved out, she's still trying to get me back. It doesn't make any sense. Unless...of course. 

How did he know that Jennifer had dumped James? All he had to go by was her word, which was now manifestly worthless. She dumped him? More likely, Mike thought, it was the other way around.

He dumped her. Yup, it all fits. The guy fucked her brains out that night—maybe others. Then, that night, he kicked her to the curb. That's what players do after a conquest: move on to the next one.

It explains why she came home crying. And it's why she stayed with me—she had no choice. Plus, she was feeling rejected...and there I was, ready and willing to treat her like a princess. What a pathetic sap.

I really thought we'd gotten over the hump. Sure, like the Boss says, the road was going to be long, the line was going to be thin—but I was going to walk it; walk like a man and be tougher than the rest. Now that I know the truth...the hell with all that.

I'm not going to be her consolation prize.

Mike wasn't sure how or when the legal niceties—divorce, separation, whatever—were going to play out. For Mikey's sake, he decided to hold off on the paperwork for a while. But in all other respects, he decided, he should try to move on.

* * *

That same evening, Jennifer sat in the den, staring at the photograph of her sister.

What should I do, Sis? If only I wasn't alone. If only you were here...to help me.

As Jennifer continued to stare, it happened again: The photograph seemed to change. Then, in her head, Jennifer heard her sister's voice—or a grown-up version of it. Was she losing her mind? It would be small wonder.

"You already know what to do, Jennifer. You just don't want to do it."

I already know?

"Yes, you do."

I do? I don't know anything! Mike thinks I had sex with James...and worse, that I lied to him about it, just when he was starting to trust me again! He doesn't believe me...he'll never believe what I say! 

"Seeing is believing, Jennifer."

Seeing? See what? There was nothing more on that video. There's nothing to...oh...no, I couldn't...how would I get... 

"You'll figure it out, Sis. I'm disappointed in you in so many ways, but there's one thing you've shown: It's that when your back is against the wall and the stakes are highest, you fight."

But I don't see how I could get it...and would it really make a difference? Would it really change things? 

"You wonder, but that's not why you hesitate."

I don't understand, Sis! You think I need to get it, but—

"You know you need to get it. You're afraid of what it will cost, but that's not your greatest fear. No, you're afraid of what will happen if you do get it."

Sis, I still don't understand...please... 

"I was there with you, Jennifer, that night in James' apartment. You brought me there, when you brought out your pain. When the reckoning comes, Jennifer, I will be with you again, if you take me. I will help you face your trial."

Wh-what? 

"I'll be your Bible to swear upon. To help you tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

I don't understand. What does this have to do with James and getting the—

"It has everything to do with James and nothing with getting it! And you've got it backwards, Jennifer. Getting it is just the first thing, and it's not the thing I can help you with. Later, when it's down to you and Mike—that's when you'll need me."

Need you for what, Sis? For what? 

"For your trial, Jennifer. For the crucible..."

The photograph seemed to change again. The voice fell silent. Jennifer shouted at it, but nothing happened.

Feeling a strange compulsion, Jennifer took the small photograph out of the frame. She folded it and placed it in her purse. Then, as if a spell had dissipated, she found herself thinking clearly—more clearly than she had in a long time.

Yes, I know what I need to get. I just don't know how. Could I...just go to his apartment and ask him for it? What if he doesn't have a copy anymore—what if he gave it all to Peter? What if he does have it, but just won't give it to me?

Jennifer's heart seized as another thought struck her.

And could I bear to see him again? Is that what Sis meant by my trial? No, she said that would be later...but still, I can't really go to James, can I? Too much risk, too little hope of reward. On the other hand, what choice do I have? 

* * *

It wasn't Friday yet—only Wednesday—but Mike wanted to see Mikey. He left work early and drove to Mikey's school in time for dismissal. He didn't want to talk to Jennifer, so he kept his distance as the children filed out of the building.

There's my boy. Damn, spying on a kid...I feel like a pervert. 

Once again, Mike wondered how it had come to this. He'd never seen himself as one of those divorced or separated men who dropped by school, seemingly irregularly, causing a stir among the moms.

"Look, there's so-and-so..."

"You know, I heard..."

"It's really a shame for little..."

Well, I won't give them anything negative to say about me. I'm not leaving Jennifer to "find myself," or for another woman, or for drugs or alcohol. I'm leaving because she cheated on me and lied about it. Let 'em gossip about that. 

Mike had decided that for Mikey's sake, he'd dodge questions about the breakup as best he could, but he wondered if Jennifer would handle it the same way. Would she instead tell family, friends, and colleagues the truth? Might she instead lie, as she'd lied to him?

Suddenly, Jennifer appeared at the top of a stairway, shouting at Mikey to get his attention. One of the moms gave her an "I'm watching him" in parent sign language. "Bring him in when you have to leave," Jennifer signed back. "Okay," the mom signed off. Jennifer went back into the building, presumably to continue preparing for the next day's class.

As Mike watched her, his resolve to leave her faded. For a few precious moments, he saw his lover, his best friend, and the mother of his child. All seemed right in the world. It had happened every time he'd seen her since Black Friday.

But then, as on those previous occasions, the G-rated previed ended and the feature horror flick started. Instead of his loving wife, Mike saw a woman who had sat on a couch, moaning as a man who was not her husband kissed and fondled her. A woman who had deceived him. A woman who did not, in fact, love him.

"Hey, you could get arrested, hiding here and watching kids like a stalker."

Mike recognized the voice. It surprised him—not the voice, but the fact that he recognized it.

"Hey," he said, turning his head towards Collette.

Wow, she looks good. 

The two women were a study in contrasts. Jennifer had short, brown hair; Collette's hair was long and blonde. Before the troubles, Jennifer had usually been tanned and toned to the max; whereas Collette's skin was fair, and her body had a more natural look.

Mike had used to love the way Jennifer had taken care of her body. Now, however, it hurt him to think about it. He wondered if she'd done it not for his sake but to get attention from others.

Attention from guys like Coltez. 

"They're good together, aren't they?" said Collette. It rankled Mike, until he realized Collette was talking about Mikey and Bobby.

"Um...yeah."

"Mike...how are you doing? I've been worried sick about you ever since last week, when you told me that you'd...moved out...that Jennifer had...you know."

Funny thing, that. I've hardly told anyone else. But when we ran into each other on Friday, it just came right out. 

"Yeah, well...thanks. I'm...getting along. I went to a law—" Mike stopped himself.

Why is it that I feel like blabbing to this woman whom I hardly know? Is it because she's "been there, done that?" Or is it because I'm lonely, and she's attractive...and available... 

"Anyway," Mike said, "I'm not here to pick up Mikey. I just wanted to see him. I guess I should be going."

"You're not even going to say hello to him?"

"No...I wasn't planning on it. We—Jennifer and I—had a bad scene here the other day. I don't need that again. Mikey doesn't need it, either."

Collette put her hand on Mike's back. It felt warm and comforting. On an impulse, Mike put his arm around her waist.

"So," he said, "how are you doing? I've been...concerned about you, too. Are you...you know, staying..."

Collette shifted a little but did not try to move away from Mike's arm. If anything, she ended up closer to him.

"Yes," she answered, "I'm still on the wagon. It's getting easier; a little easier. Bobby's noticed a difference, too. I never realized how much I was hurting him with..."

Collette started to sob. As she did, her hand moved up Mike's back to his far shoulder and squeezed it. In response, Mike held her a little tighter with his arm. She, in turn, started to lean her head on his near shoulder. She stopped herself, but Mike had noticed.

"That's what kills me the most," he said. "What's going to happen to Mikey if... Anyway, I'm impressed with how you're...taking care of yourself, and Bobby. You should be very proud. I hope I can be that strong, for Mikey."




Tunnel of Love Pt. 03



Out of the corner of his eye, Mike caught Collette blushing—and smiling. Her posture suddenly improved. Yet, he noticed, she was a little antsy; maybe nervous?

Since Collette's revelation and apology some time ago, Mike had forgotten any interest she seemed to have in him. Reeling from Jennifer's blow to his self-esteem and having learned that Collette had been a little unbalanced when she'd flirted with him, Mike had assumed that the new-and-improving Collette would be on to greener pastures before long.

But maybe it's not like that—not like that at all? Her hand is almost on my neck, now! I'm holding her pretty tight, and she's not moving away...even though her son is over there, ready to be picked up. 

"So," he said, "how's your weekend shaping up? Got any hot dates?"

Collette shifted again and drew a sharp breath, then huffed in sarcasm.

"Yeah, right...divorcée with child...make that recovering-alcoholic divorcée with child. Real 'hot date' material! I used to...well, anyway, I'm not...actively...if you know what I mean."

Mike was curious as to how far he could take this line of conversation.

"Why not? You're beautiful, your son is a good kid..."

Collette blushed and smiled again.

"...you're not living with your parents..."

She giggled.

"...your shoes are tied..."

She burst out laughing.

"...for guys like me, at my age...you'd be quite a catch! I mean, sorry, that's not much of a compliment..."

"Mike," she blurted out, "anything from you is a huge..."

After her voice trailed off, an awkward silence fell upon them. Mike was pleased that he'd managed to make a pretty girl laugh, blush, and practically embrace him. Yet, he also felt guilty.

What am I doing? I know she's lonely and vulnerable, maybe a little keen on me, and I'm acting like...like some player. 

Mike started to disentangle from Collette. As soon as he started, she did so as well, but he noticed that she seemed a little flushed.

In the yard, the games were breaking up. "Mikey," shouted one of the remaining moms, "come on! Let's get you to your mother!" The reference to Mikey's mother brought a pained look to Mike's face.

"Nice to, um...nice to see you," said Collette, straightening her clothes. "I've got to go get Bobby now."

"Yeah, time for me to get going also. Nice to see you too, Collette. I'll, um, be here Friday..."

Why did I say that? 

"Well then, maybe I'll see you," Collette said shyly, "and Bobby would sure like that play date...anyway, take care, Mike."

As he watched Collette walk away, Mike felt himself waiting for something, but he didn't know what it was—until it happened. Collette looked back at him. Seeing that Mike was watching her, she waved, looking pleased but embarrassed. Before Mike could wave back, she turned away and picked up her pace.

* * *

A little later that same day, Jennifer sat on a bench in a park not far from school, watching Mikey cavort on a huge play structure. She'd promised herself she'd be strong for the encounter to come, but already something unexpected had her fighting back tears. Mikey was talking to himself, seemingly reacting to an imaginary play mate.

His father. They played for an hour here once. Some game only a boy and a boy at heart could make up. Nothing I could ever even imagine, much less do. 

Jennifer was desperate—and so was her plan. She hoped she still had some magic, some power to exploit. But as she'd looked at herself in the mirror this morning, she'd not seen the glow she'd once been able to project. The man she was waiting to meet—would he even recognize her?

"Hello, Jennifer," said a familiar voice.

Swallowing hard, Jennifer tore her gaze away from Mikey, turned her head, and looked up at the man she never thought she would see again in her life.

"Hello, Peter...th-thank you for coming."

"May I sit down?"

"Of c-course. Please."

There was an awkward silence as Jennifer looked back at Mikey.

"Jennifer," Peter said in wounded tone, "after our last time together, I must say I was very ambivalent about meeting you here. When I received your message, I hoped that perhaps you'd finally forgiven me for my...lapse in judgment. However, I also had to wonder if you just wanted to try to...hurt me some more."

Jennifer took a deep breath.

"Peter, we've both done things that we regret. The past is what it is; I'm dealing with my future, now. If you were ever really my friend...if you ever really wanted to be something more...I'm hoping you can find it in your heart to help me."

"Help?" Peter asked, obviously intrigued.

"I know you sent the video to Mike," Jennifer continued, looking Peter in the eyes. He shifted, uncomfortably, and began to say something—only to stutter. Then, he seemed to mutter something under his breath—a rebuke to himself? Jennifer was encouraged.

Maybe this will work! Maybe he still has a weak spot for me!

"Peter," she continued, "I upset you. I said...and did...a terribly mean thing. What you did in retaliation was wrong, but...I provoked you. I'm sorry."

Peter stared at her with an inscrutable face.

"I need the video, Peter. All of it."

Peter cracked a smile. There was something genuine yet creepy about it. Jennifer looked away, checking on Mikey.

"Jennifer, my dear old friend," Peter said, all hesitation suddenly gone. "If you're offering me an apology, I accept. I have already apologized to you, but allow me to do so again. Unfortunately, however, I'm not sure what you mean by this video?"

Jennifer's heart sank. Had she been wrong? Had James really sent the video?

No. That still makes no sense. It was Peter...he's just tormenting me. 

"Peter, I know it was you. James had no reason."

Though it pained her to look at him, Jennifer watched Peter's reaction. He was good, she gave him that—but she saw a glimmer of recognition in his face. She'd hit home.

"Jennifer, let's just say, hypothetically, that I possessed some....film...involving James and you. A complete set of film, more than what you apparently already have. Why would you want it?"

Good question. I'm not sure I do. But it's my only hope. 

"I'm sorry, Peter, you'll just have to accept my request for what it is."

After a pause, Peter responded. "Well, Jen," he said, slipping into his nickname for her—a nickname she had tolerated from very few people in her life. "Of course I won't pry into why you want it, but I am curious as to why you think I would give you this video, if I had it."

Jennifer's stomach began to knot. She sensed a change in Peter. The hope she'd felt at the beginning of the conversation was starting to fade.

"Peter, you were my friend for fifteen years. You said you...you said you even loved me. I'm asking you a favor, a simple favor that costs you nothing. Please..."

Peter put his arm around her shoulders. Her instinct was to recoil, to shout; but this was a public place, and she did not want to cause a stir. If Peter needed to play a little game before relenting...she would just have to put up with it.

"Jen, I was indeed your friend, and I wanted to be more. I apologized profusely for what my love drove me to do. But then you wounded me, and I haven't seen you since. Perhaps turning over a film...if I had it...would cost me nothing, but from my perspective that's not the issue. The issue is: what would I have to gain?"

Jennifer felt a shock. She shifted, looked in Mikey's direction, and tried to recover. This was not going well. Not well at all.

"Peter, this is a chance for you to...show your kindness. Maybe in time, I could forgive you and we could be friends again. Mike doesn't know, you see...I never told him—"

Jennifer stopped herself, but it was too late. Peter shuffled as delight emerged on his face. She'd given too much away.

"Jen, Jen, my dear," he said. "I think you owed me forgiveness that night on the stairs, when I confessed everything to you. Certainly, you owed it when I did your bidding and gave James my best performance. I'm here now, at your invitation, despite the lack of appreciation you showed me. If you aren't prepared to forgive me right here, right now, I don't see why I should ever expect anything from you."

When formulating her plan, Jennifer had known—deep down—that it might come to this. That Peter might be too far gone to respond to her as he'd once done. That she might have to reckon with the other Peter, the one Mike had perceived and despised all those years.

"Peter, I...I do forgive you. You have to understand, however, that without that video, I don't plan on making...or keeping...any friends. I can't live with the last...image...on that DVD being the last word on what...happened with James. You were behind it all; if you really want to be my friend again, you need to give me the rest of the video."

"Jennifer," Peter said, now somewhat sternly, addressing her by her formal name. "I don't need to do anything. And I'm beginning to think your apology is...disingenuous."

Jennifer cringed as he leaned into her and whispered.

"I would like us to be friends again; frankly, more than friends...but not if you're just going to flash your tits at me and tell me to fuck off again!"

Peter was holding her tight around the shoulders now. Jennifer's heart raced. She continued to stare at Mikey, trying to hide her fear.

"Wh-wha-what do you want, Peter," she said.

"Not much, Jen," he answered, his voice buttery again. "Not much. I would like you to have dinner with me..."

Jennifer perked up, then felt her heart sink again. 

"...at my home. Just you and me; a nice candlelit dinner. Some fine wine. Talk of old times—good times. I believe it would be a very pleasant evening, Jen, if you would make it so."

Jennifer felt her world grow darker, colder. Peter's hand drifted from her shoulder to her neck and then her cheek. He leaned in close again.

"Pleasant for both of us, Jen, in ways we've never enjoyed before. Do you understand?"

My god. I thought I'd escaped the trap, but no. James was just the hound, let loose to corner me; Peter was the hunter. This is the real trap...and he's asking me to walk into it, knowingly, eyes open. 

"Do you understand, Jen," Peter repeated—with a hint of a threat.

"Peter, I...I need some time to think about this. Right now, I...I need to take Mikey home. Th-thank you for meeting me."

Peter looked disappointed, but only slightly so.

"Very well, Jen," he said, rising from the bench. "Thank you for seeing me again. I'm quite sure you must have been...highly motivated. I do expect that I'll hear from you."

As Jennifer also rose, Peter kissed her on the cheek and whispered.

"Don't wait long to call me, Jen. I really need to clean up my home office, you know. Throw out the unneeded things that tend to accumulate. If there's something you want me to save...well, please let me know very soon."

* * *

The next day, Peter answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Peter...it's Jennifer."

"Jen," she added hastily.

Peter beamed. "Why, Jen, so nice to hear from you. I hope you given some thought to my dinner invitation?"

There was a pause on the line. He imagined Jennifer squirming. The thought of it turned him on.

"Yes, Peter, I have...and I'd like to accept."

Blood started pumping away from Peter's brain towards a different part of his anatomy, but he kept his composure.

"I am delighted to hear that, Jen. How about tomorrow night?"

Another pause.

"Tomorrow...Friday. Yes, tomorrow night would be fine, assuming I can make arrangements for Mikey."

"Of course, Jen. You know I adore Mikey, but this dinner is just for the two of us. And we would not want to be...rushed...by you having to go home. Too early, that is. You do understand, Jen?"

Another exquisite pause.

"Yes, Peter...I understand."

"Terrific, Jen. I'm looking forward to having you over to my home again. It's been too long. And just the two of us...you can imagine how I am looking forward to that."

The longest pause yet; then:

"Thank you, Peter...I'll see you on tomorrow night."

"Oh, and Jen..."

He let her twist in the wind for a moment.

"...I would like to see you in a suitably attractive and short dress. Agreed?"

He imagined her wincing.

"Fine."

"Good. And lastly...I seem to recall that during our last meeting you displayed to me certain features of your anatomy that are customarily embraced by underwear. I believe you meant it as an insult. It would be a nice gesture of your...contrition...if you would similarly not restrain those assets tomorrow night—but refrain from predicting what I might or might not touch!"

Peter hung up the phone.

Hah! That just came to me! Not bad. And now, you're coming to me, Jen. You, coming... coming...mmmm. 

* * *

Later that day, Collette received a call.

"Hi, Collette...it's Mike...Mike Chancey."

Collette's heart skipped a beat. "Mike...hi! How are you?"

Stupid question. Stupid, stupid! 

"Um...getting along, I guess. Picking myself up off the floor, actually...which is why I'm calling. About that play date..."

Play date? Oh, Bobby. Right. Not you, stupid girl. 

"...I don't suppose tomorrow...if it's not enough notice, just—"

"Yes, tomorrow!" Collette blurted, before cringing.

Could you possibly sound any more desperate? 

"Great. I'll pick up Mikey right after school, but I'll bring him over a little later?"

Act cool. Act cool. 

"Sure, that would be...good."

Arrgh, too cool. Cold, even. Damn it! 

"All right. Um...look, I hate to impose, but can I ask you for a favor? I could use your help with something."

Anything. Anything. Ohmigod. Talk! Talk before he thinks—

"Um," Mike continued, "I know it's really short notice, but you did say...well, how about that sleepover, too?"

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Stop holding your breath. Say something! 

"Unless," Mike went on, "you have plans..."

"No! No," Collette finally spoke, "no plans at all!"

"Great, that's great because...well, Jennifer just asked me to take care of Mikey, overnight, and I said yes...but the thing is...well, I really don't want to bring him...you know, where I'm staying."

So you thought of me? Ohmig—um, come on, Collette, you're not a teenager. You can handle this. It's not a big deal. 

"It's not a big de—I mean, it's not a problem at all, Mike. On one condition."

Oh shit. Did I just say that? 

"Um...let me guess," Mike responded, "you need me to pick him up early on Saturday morning?"

You're saved, there's your out...but no, no! Don't you chicken out...after all the losers you've thrown yourself at! 

"No, no, I was going to say...on the condition that you have dinner with us."

Oh sweet Jesus, I said it. I said it. I am going to die. 

There was a pause, long enough for Collette to curse herself a hundred times.

"Dinner...okay. Okay!"

OHMIGOD I AM GOING TO DIE. 

"On one condition of my own," Mike added. "You let me bring the food."

Huh? What did he say? Pay attention! 

"Deal?"

What did he say? Whatever, figure it out later. Say something, quick! 

"Yes...deal...wow! Bobby is going to be so excited!"

"I'm sure Mikey will be too. We'll see you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow! Can't wait!"

Ughh...either you can't speak at all, or you blow it. 

"Whew. Thanks, Collette...thanks so much. Bye now."

After Mike hung up, Collette held her phone for a full minute, before finally putting it down.

I have to clean this house. What am I going to wear? Calm down...ohmigod! 

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Jennifer was in her classroom tidying up, when she heard her Mike's footfall—so recognizable to her—in the hallway. Quickly, she glanced in a mirror and adjusted her hair. Then, with her back to the door, she began filing some booklets away on a shelf near her desk.

Mike reached the doorway and stood there for a moment, watching Jennifer. His eyes lingered on her lower body, so well-outlined by her blue jeans. As she stepped to her desk and bent over it on her elbows, Mike's eyes were drawn to her ass. He shifted and adjusted his pants.

Jennifer shuffled some papers on her desk while furtively glancing under her arm to confirm that Mike was watching her. She held her suggestive pose a few moments longer, then rose off of one elbow, twisted her body, and looked at Mike. She smiled as she noticed Mike's eyes falling on the profile of her breast, just as she'd hoped.

Jennifer's eyes, in turn, fell into Mike's trap. They took in his shoulders, his chest, and his surreptitiously flexed bicep, all accentuated by the stance he'd adopted in the doorway. Her eyes started to trail lower, when Mike spoke and she caught herself.

"Hi," Mike said, turning his head towards the windows. There was no anger in his voice, just sadness. "I...um...came to get Mikey."

"Yeah," Jennifer replied, following his gaze. "He's out in the yard."

"I know. I just...wanted to let you know I was here," Mike said as he strolled towards the windows. "So you'd know that I picked him up."

Mike looked at the art projects on the counter under the windows. They were houses...homes...the Kindergarten students' homes. Mike traced one with his finger, longingly, while Jennifer approached the other end of the counter.

"Thanks for taking Mikey."

"Sure...I'll always be his father, Jennifer. No matter what."

"I know you will, Mike. And you'll always be my husband."

Staring out the window, Mike struggled to speak. "Jennifer, I...I talked...I talked to a lawyer..."

Jennifer gasped. She fought hard to suppress tears.

"Mike," she said after several false starts, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything. I didn't lie, though; I haven't lied to you once, not since you first...found out."

Mike turned as if to leave.

"Mike...please! I know there's nothing I can say right now that would change your mind about anything. I'm not going to try, I just...please. Five minutes...please."

Mike stopped, closed his eyes, and nodded.

"I know that by not telling you everything, I breached your trust. Again. I know I have to prove to you that I didn't lie. I know you won't believe me, without...something more than just my word. I'm working on it, Mike. I just need a little time...just tonight, I think...please give me that. No commitment about anything else, just a little...time. Please."

Mike opened his eyes and looked at her. Quickly, they both looked at their feet, then back to the windows. It was a long time before Mike answered.

"I'll try, Jennifer. I don't know what you could do to...'prove' anything. Seeing is believing, and after what I saw..."

Jennifer sobbed as Mike started to leave.

"I know, Mike. Please just—"

"HOW COULD YOU DO IT, JENNIFER?" Mike blurted out, as he paused near the door. "I NEVER...I never...wanted anything more than you. When we were dating, it was so exciting, but so terrifying...I thought any minute, it would end. Even when I proposed...I thought...I thought you might say no."

"Baby—"

"You should have said no, Jennifer. If you weren't sure what you wanted...you should have said no. When we were at the altar, when you were asked those questions, why did you say, 'I do?'"

Jennifer gasped, but Mike continued.

"Were you looking around, even then, for someone better—"

"No, Mike, no! I loved you—and our vows, they're what reminded me...what saved me that night with...him. Since then, I've never doubted my love for you—"

"Since then? Since then? Look...you've said all this before. I guess I just don't know what your 'love for me' means, Jennifer. How you looked, what you did in that video with him...that didn't look like love for me. But if that's what you want now...if he's who you want now...or someone like him...I won't stand in your way."




Tunnel of Love Pt. 04



Fat man sitting on a little stool Takes the money from my hand While his eyes take a walk all over you Hands me the ticket, smiles, and whispers "good luck" Well, cuddle up angel, cuddle up my little dove And we'll ride down baby, into this tunnel of love

CHAPTER 10: The Crucible

Dr. Gayle Seymour tensed as the first footage on the DVD played.

The scene was a bathroom. The camera appeared to be placed above the mirror and sink. From its vantage point, it took in the whole bathroom, including a shower stall, enclosed by transparent glass. Gayle suppressed a snicker.

Any action in there; the camera would capture it. Who is this James Coltez? I've heard of some perverted stuff in my time, but a hidden camera in a bathroom? 

On the screen, Jennifer entered the bathroom and closed the door. She approached the sink, turned on the water, and washed her hands. Meanwhile, she looked at herself in the mirror. The makeup around her eyes was spotty.

From crying—about the boy, probably, and by extension her sister. But that's quite a bit of makeup you have on, Jennifer. That was just to visit some kids at a hospital? 

Jennifer dabbed some water on her face, then dried it. Reaching into her purse, she took out her makeup kit and did a quick patch job. Then, with the water still running, she just stared at herself.

Tell me, Jennifer, what did you see when you looked into your eyes? "Was it you, baby, or a just a brilliant disguise?" 

Did you know the difference? Was there a difference? 

Jennifer washed her hands once more, dried them, straightened her clothes, and left the bathroom.

They watched the rest of the video from the bathroom for a long time, but nothing else happened there. It dawned on Gayle that she could have fast-forwarded. As they'd been watching, however, no one had moved a muscle nor thought to do anything but study every frame.

* * *

Mike took a deep breath as the next set of footage began.

The image was of a dark hallway from above. He'd seen footage from this camera before, but not this footage. Almost immediately, a man emerged from one of the doors off the hallway. It wasn't the bathroom door Mike had seen Jennifer emerge from on the first DVD, and he couldn't see very far past it.

Looks like a small office, maybe? And that, of course, was Coltez coming out. Interesting that the footage started where it did. He must have gone into that room to turn on the cameras. 

Coltez disappeared from view for a minute, but then returned...with Jennifer. He was leading her by the hand. He gestured towards the door to the bathroom. Jennifer stepped inside and closed the door.

Coltez waited for a moment, seemingly listening. Then, satisfied of something, he pulled out his cell phone and placed a call. There wasn't much sound, though Mike thought he caught a word here or there. Coltez's back was to the camera, so he couldn't read his lips.

Probably just calling another one of his girlfriends. A guy like that wouldn't have just one iron in the fire. I bet he'd had other plans for the night, but the kid's death had given him an opening with Jennifer. So he had to call off some other tramp he was going to fuck. 

Coltez hung up and quickly left the hallway. A few moments later, Jennifer emerged from the bathroom. This part, they'd seen before. Jennifer walked down the hall, in the direction Coltez had taken, until she was out of sight.

Now for a long view of an empty hallway while they have some fun in the living room. 

Time passed. There was no action in the hallway. Gayle picked up the remote control and hit the fast forward button. Still, no action. As the screen went black, she hit the play button to restore normal playback. The screen remained black for several moments.

Guess that's the end of the hallway scene. So they had all their fun in the living room and didn't go to the bedroom. Or else...there's another hallway? Some other way there? 

* * *

Jennifer fidgeted as the third set of footage began. The scene was a bedroom. Jennifer felt Mike's and Gayle's eyes on her. She shifted again, nervously.

No one appeared in view. Jennifer heard Gayle pick up the remote control from behind her and guessed why.

She knows nothing's going to happen while I'm in the bathroom and the living room. 

Mike heard Gayle also. He turned around and shook his head. Gayle put down the remote. Again, Jennifer guessed why.

He wants to see every minute of this. Seeing is believing...for better or worse. 

Jennifer felt the tension mount as the minutes ticked by. She found herself holding her breath more than once. Finally the scene ended, and the screen went black again. No one had ever appeared in the room.

Jennifer exhaled sharply.

I didn't see all of this in Peter's house. I was afraid he might have...altered the scene somehow. Well, now they know. Nothing happened...in the bedroom. 

Jennifer stole a glance at Mike. If the footage of the bedroom had relieved him any, he wasn't showing it. His expression and body posture had not changed since he'd first sat down.

He knows what's still to come. Oh god, can I watch this again? I'm going to...remember what it was like, aren't I? I can't...I can't bear it... 

Suddenly, Jennifer remembered something she'd brought with her in her purse. While Mike and Dr. Seymour waited tensely for the final set of footage to begin, Jennifer reached into her purse. She pulled out a small, folded piece of stiff paper. She did not open it, but gripped it tightly in her hand.

* * *

Gayle shifted in her chair, anticipating what she expected to be the final footage. As the first image appeared, the scene was indeed the living room, captured in the same wide-angle shot they'd all seen before. The first images were new to them, however. 

Just inside the closed front door to the apartment was Jennifer. She stood rooted there, quietly crying. Moments later, James entered the frame from what must have been the hallway.

"Jennifer," he said, "do you need to use the restroom or anything?"

Jennifer looked up at him, her eyes wide in surprise. As if she'd been lost in a trance and was wondering where she was.

"Yes," she eventually answered, "I need to...freshen up."

James took her hand and led her down the hall.

Moments later, James returned the room. He stood off, his back to the camera, as Jennifer entered. This was a part Dr. Seymour, Mike, and Jennifer had seen before.

Jennifer approached James. He hugged her and led her to a couch. She sat down, leaned her head on his shoulders, and cried. He stroked her hair and started kissing her. She started kissing him. Then came the kiss on the lips, followed by James' fondling of her breasts while she rubbed his chest, his waist, and ultimately his crotch.

She unzipped his pants. She reached in and smiled. Moments later, she pulled out his cock and gazed at it. She jacked it off a couple of times. Then, massaging it, she stared up at James, right into his smiling eyes. Without looking away, she lowered her mouth to the head.

"You want me to lick this?" she asked.

"I do," James answered.

Gayle was on the edge of her seat. She'd known this scene well, of course—too well. Still, it had captivated her once again.

Now for the sequel. 

On the screen, Jennifer smiled and flicked out her tongue. She leaned forward. The head of James' cock passed her lips.

But as it did, Jennifer's expression seemed to change. Just as her lips started to close around the shaft, her eyes flared and her jaw clenched. James recoiled.

Did she just...bite him? 

There was no howl, no scream. It must not have been too hard of a bite. James relaxed.

She probably was just nervous. I've made that mistake myself! She'll recover and get on with it. And I'm going to watch every minute of it, aren't I? It doesn't matter anymore. This is the end...for me, as much as them. 

But while Jennifer, on screen, held James' cock in her mouth, her lips and cheeks did not move. After several moments, her head jolted, as if she were snapping out of a spell. Quickly, almost as if in pain, Jennifer released James' cock.

"I... I can't do this," she said.

"What do you mean?" asked James, looking on in disbelief.

"James...this is wrong. I am married, for god's sake! And not only that, but I love him with all my heart! This is absurd; I have no idea what I am doing here. What the hell am I thinking?"

James' jaw dropped as Jennifer stood up. She looked down at him, seemed to notice his erect cock pointing straight at her, and blushed. She stood transfixed by it, for a moment, but then tore her eyes away and looked at James with resolve.

"James, as much as this pains me, I can't see you anymore. I have feelings for you, which I am sure you know. I think I may even love you. But I love my husband more and I will never hurt him."

Jennifer looked down, away from James and towards the floor. Shaking her head, as if in confusion, she continued.

"I don't know if it's even possible to love two men...but I just had to grasp that fact. Once I did, everything became clear. I have a choice. My heart chose Mike a long time ago."

James seemed stunned. Then he winced as tears formed in his eyes. He began to cry.

Jennifer looked up and saw him sobbing. Her expression changed to one of sympathy. "Oh James, I am so sorry! If I had never met Mike..."

She leaned down and kissed him. His still-hard cock brushed her arm. She stared down at it for a long moment before she shook her head.

"I love you, James," she whispered.

Jennifer turned away from him. She walked towards the door. She opened it, paused...then stepped through. Gently, she closed the door behind her.

James hardly seemed to notice Jennifer's departure. He remained on the couch, cock deflating and tears flowing. Eventually, he put himself back in order, rose from the couch, and headed towards the hall.

Moments later, the screen went black, then blue. The video was over. Gayle exhaled deeply and sank back into her chair.

Well, she told the truth...pretty much. She didn't have sex with him. Didn't give him a blowjob, either. But damn, that was close—as close as it gets. And while this closes one can of worms, it opens another. 

* * *

Mike felt paralyzed.

On the one hand, the new footage had been nothing like his nightmares. There'd been no worshiping of James' cock; Jennifer's lips had closed around it, but there'd been no licking, no sucking. Moreover, there'd been no fucking. No humiliating dialogue, either—no screaming orgasms, no testimonials to James' physique or sexual prowess, no derogatory comments about Mike. On the contrary, Jennifer had stood up for him—in a way—leaving that player behind, crying, with a serious case of blue balls.

No, the scene hadn't unfolded like his nightmares.

"Seeing is believing." Okay, I guess I believe they didn't have sex. Is that a relief? Yes. 

On the other hand, the new footage was a whole different nightmare.

When Jennifer had first told him that she'd "gotten physical" with Coltez, Mike had imagined—or assumed—that her feelings for him had been a combination of sexual attraction and empathy, one or both born of distress. The new footage, however, opened up a new and terrible dimension.

She loved him? She fell in love with him? She never said...never even hinted... 

Even when I saw the video, that part of it I saw the first time, I thought it was just lust, sluttiness. I thought that there was no love in her at all; none for me, for him, for anyone. That love was just a mask she could put on. That at heart, she was just a whore.

She fell in love with him? But...she also loved me? 

Looking at Jennifer, Mike thought about the Springsteen song that had come to him on Black Sunday—"Brilliant Disguise." It played in his head again, as his gaze alternated between Jennifer and the television screen. There was the Jennifer he'd married, and the Jennifer who'd snuck around with Coltez. So many times, since Black Sunday, he'd wondered which was real and which was the disguise.

If what Jennifer had said to Coltez was true—and he wasn't sure it could be true—then the two Jennifers were both real. There was a Jennifer that loved and lusted after Mike, and a Jennifer that loved and lusted after the other guy. So maybe "Brilliant Disguise" wasn't the right song from Tunnel of Love. Maybe the better one for Jennifer was "Two Faces."

One that laughs, one that cries One says hello, one says goodbye One does things I don't understand Makes me feel like half a man

The two Jennifers inhabited the same body. Both user profiles seemed locked; Mike saw no way to eliminate the unwanted one, without wiping the whole system. That, however, would eliminate the wanted one as well.

No way to exorcise the bad from the good. 

The thought of exorcism brought to Mike's mind a play he'd read in high school. A play, written by Arthur Miller, about the Salem witch trials. Trials of seemingly ordinary and good women who convicted of being possessed by evil and found to be beyond redemption.

What did they do with witches? In Salem, they hanged them. But the traditional way, in stories, was to burn them. Burn them at the stake. 

Torch the witch... 

Jennifer and Dr. Seymour looked at him expectantly. He made a sound, which resembled the clearing of one's throat. But it might easily have been mistaken for the sound of a pyre igniting.

"I have some questions," Mike announced.

* * *

Jennifer was shaking. Tears were streaming down her face. Her hands were in her lap, the right one clenched around the left. In that left hand, she tightly gripped the object she'd removed from her purse.

This is it now, isn't it, Sis?

"This is the beginning....but not the worst part."

I can't do it. It was enough, just to have to watch it. Please, just let me die now.

"Yes, you may die. Slowly, painfully. The fire is set, Jennifer. This room is like a vessel. In it, you may burn...or melt."

Please, no...

"You came here, Jennifer, knowing this would be your trial. The jury is empanelled. You're on the stand."

It's too much. I can't do it.

"Yes you can. You will. Speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." 

The words—real or imagined—cast a sudden calmness over Jennifer. It was a feeling of doom, so inevitable it was almost peaceful. She felt like a prey animal caught by a predator. Instead of struggling, she relaxed, resigned to what was about to happen.

* * *

"So you went to the hospital that night," Mike began. "You found out that one of the kids had died, and it made you very upset. But instead of coming home right away, to me, you spent time with...him?"

Jennifer's voice was flat and calm. Her stare was almost vacant. She spoke almost as if hypnotized, as if drugged with truth serum.

"Yes. At the hospital I...I sat down next to James and leaned against him. He put his arm around me, and we cried together. He said he needed a drink, that he had some 'special stuff' at his apartment for times like these. He asked me to join him." 

"Did you suggest going to a public place instead, or better yet, remind him that you were married and suggest that he find someone else to have a drink with?"

"No, Mike, I didn't."

"On your way to his apartment, did you change your mind?"

"No. I told myself that James and I needed each other. That you wouldn't be able to help me, Mike. That you hadn't been in the trenches with me."

Mike let those words hang in the air for a moment; then he took aim and fired. He excoriated Jennifer for dismissing him, the father of her child, as being incapable of sympathizing with her pain. Mikey's birth, various late night emergency room visits, sundry perils faced...Mike made the case that he'd been in the equivalent of the Mariana Trench with Jennifer, more than once.

Jennifer made no effort to stop Mike's attack or defend herself. She agreed with everything he said. Mike drew a deep breath.

"So you went to his apartment," he said, picking up the remote control. He found the beginning of the scene in the living room and pressed play. They watched Jennifer leave the room, go to the bathroom, and return.

"After pulling yourself together a little in the bathroom, did you tell him that you'd made a mistake, that you needed to leave?"

"No."

"Instead, you let him hug you...and then you sat down on the couch with him?"

"Yes."

"Tell me...did you ever have that drink? That 'special stuff?'"

Jennifer hesitated; her expression was first surprise, then disappointment. "No."

"What were you going to do on that couch, if you weren't going to have a drink?"

Jennifer hesitated again. Her grip tightened on the object in her hand. She spoke slowly and haltingly, as if, on exit, each breath that carried her words seared her lungs and throat.

"I...I was going to...be with him, Mike. I needed to stop feeling the pain. I needed an escape."

Mike played some more of the video, then paused it again.

"So he kissed you. And you let him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I thought it was the only thing that would make me forget the pain. I needed to be comforted."

"Not by me? Did you even think of me?"

"For a moment, yes. I though...I thought, 'Mike, I'm sorry. Only James can help me with this pain.'"

"And that's when you started kissing him back?"

"Yes."

"So how did it feel? Comforting?"

Jennifer trembled.

"It felt...interesting...grief and...lust mixed together. As he kissed me...my body was on fire. The combination of lust and grief was so strong..."

Mike shook his head and played some more of the video. They watched the French-kissing, James' fondling of Jennifer's breasts, and her traveling hands. As James was tugging her nipples through her clothes, Mike paused the video.

"At this point," Mike asked, "you decided to put your hand on his crotch and feel him up?"

"Yes. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted...I wanted to see him."

"So you unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick?"

"Yes."

Mike again advanced the video. They watched Jennifer put James' cock in her mouth, then stop and speak to James. They watched James answer. They watched Jennifer hesitate and ultimately stop. Mike paused the film again.

"When you asked him if he wanted you to lick it, and he said 'I do,' is that what triggered something in your mind? It reminded you of our wedding vows?"

"Yes."

"Including the parts about forsaking all others and being faithful only to me? And that's what stopped you from carrying on?"

"Yes."

Mike drew a deep breath. "But your wedding vow didn't stop you from responding to his advances at the gym?"

Jennifer hesitated. Her face showed a curious expression that was hard to read. "Advances..." she finally said, "You don't understand, Mike—"

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Mike said impatiently. "And your vow didn't stop you from lying to me about the hospital...continuing to be his gym buddy...developing feelings for him...going to his apartment...fooling around with him...or fishing out his dick and putting your mouth around it?"

"No Mike, it didn't."

"And if you hadn't happened to ask him a question that happened to make him say two words that happened to make you finally remember your wedding vows, you would have gone through with it?"

Jennifer hesitated again; this time, seemingly, out of overwhelming shame.

"YOU WOULD HAVE SUCKED HIS COCK?"

Jennifer's hands flew to her face as she hung her head and began to sob. "Yes, Mike...I would have."

Mike seemed embarrassed by his sudden loss of composure; like a butcher, maybe, unprofessionally wincing at the sight of blood. Reinstating his calm, matter-of-fact cadence, he continued.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 04



"But unluckily for him, your wedding vow came to mind in time to stop you?"

"It did!"

"You didn't want to break a promise?"

"Right."

"So it wasn't love for me that stopped you—just your sense of honor?"

Jennifer's demeanor suddenly changed. She stopped sobbing, and her face turned resolute. Her soft, resigned voice solidified.

"No, that's not right, Mike. You heard me say it, to him, on the video. I told him I couldn't do it, not just because I was married, but because I loved you with all my heart. And then, I felt confused...like I didn't know how or why I had ended up there, holding...his..."

As Jennifer's voice trailed off, Mike played the rest of the video.

"So," he said when it was over, "love stopped you? Love for me?"

"Yes!"

"And after your love for me came flooding back, you said you couldn't see him anymore?"

"Yes."

"You didn't say, 'We can't be friends anymore' or something like that, you said you couldn't 'see' him anymore? Like you had been dating? Like you were breaking up with him?"

"I guess...yes."

"And then you said it pained you...even after you remembered your love for me, it pained you to stop seeing him?"

"Yes."

"And you said you had feelings for him...that you thought you loved him?"

"Yes."

"This is after you 'remembered' that you loved me?"

"Yes. It didn't make sense to me, at first. It confused me. I didn't think such a thing could be possible, to love two men at the same time...but I realized it was."

"So you felt you loved both of us, but you decided to break things off with him, instead of me?"

Once again, Jennifer's expression and tone of voice changed. "Yes, Mike, I never...I never thought of leaving you for him, ever. Not before that night, not during that night, not after that night."

"Because you loved me more? Is that why you chose me over him?"

"Yes!"

"But you'd already chosen me, before that night, right? In fact, that's what you said to him—that you'd chosen me a long time ago?"

"Yes," Jennifer answered hesitatingly, as if bothered by the implication of the question.

"And didn't you just walk away from him after remembering me; you said some more things, didn't you? You said you were 'sorry,' and that if you'd never met me...'"

"Yes," Jennifer replied, again weakly.

"Meaning you were sorry that you'd met me first, sorry that you were married and not free to take up with him?"

In a flash, Jennifer's hesitation was gone. "No, Mike, that's not what I meant," she said resolutely. "I was sorry for him. Sorry that I might have led him on. He was crying, Mike, and I was trying to tell him that the problem was me, not him."

"Actually, it sounded like you were telling him that the problem was me."

"Whatever it sounded like, Mike, you're wrong!" Jennifer replied, raising her voice defiantly. "I didn't leave that apartment feeling like I'd married too soon, like I'd married the wrong person. I've never regretted marrying you, Mike—never. Except...except now...because of how I've hurt you."

As sorrow overtook Jennifer and she began to sob again, Mike looked away. "So he cried, you apologized, but you still didn't leave right then, did you? Instead, you kissed him?"

"Yes."

"And then, after you remembered you loved me, after you told him you'd chosen me, you told him that you loved him? You just couldn't leave without saying that?"

Jennifer barely managed a "yes" before her sobbing burst into crying. Mike shook his head, but underneath his disdain he seemed as uncomfortable as her. His body tensed, relaxed, tensed, and relaxed. Finally, he exhaled deeply and held up his hand in a gesture that could have been interpreted in any number of ways.

"We're almost done," he said, his words and tone of voice equally ambiguous.

* * *

Gayle watched Mike's interrogation of Jennifer with fascination. What the world had gained in a software engineer, she thought, it had lost in a lawyer. Jennifer's make-out scene with James seemed so squalid now—sad, just sad and shameful. The scene's former eroticism had evaporated.

Which led Gayle to suspect there was some other agenda behind Mike's interrogation besides convicting Jennifer of a crime. Except once or twice, Mike had not gotten angry or even animated. It was almost as if he was just getting something over with; something unpleasant and distasteful but sadly necessary.

Yes, he's roasted her, but it's as if he's been standing in the fire with her. Burning himself, as much as her. Burning away the disbelief, the anger, the indignation? Or would a better analogy be a cauterization...like putting a hot piece of metal to a wound he has no other way to close? 

Gayle wondered to what end the conflagration would lead. If Mike was desensitizing himself to what Jennifer had done, was he doing it in preparation for reconciliation, or divorce? Or, was he just trying to destroy Jennifer, and himself, to no other end?

Gayle found Jennifer's responses as fascinating as Mike's questions. Jennifer had answered most of his inquiries simply, directly, and unemotionally without getting defensive or argumentative. She'd stood in the withering fire of his interrogation without firing back; without resorting to the justifications or excuses she'd offered in the past. She'd rarely even offered the straight explanations that had come out in prior sessions.

She knows I remember them, that Mike remembers them. She knows that his examination has not brought out the whole story—things that might put her actions in context, put her in a better light. But it's as if she wants to be judged, wants to be punished...wants the truth laid out, utterly unvarnished and unmitigated. Why? 

There had been flourishes, though—some answers Mike had not expected. In demeanor and tone, Jennifer had been convincing when she'd said she never stopped loving Mike, she'd never thought of leaving him for James, and she'd never regretted marrying him. The fact that she'd answered so many other damaging questions with soul-baring honesty lent credibility to those claims.

There was something curious too about her reaction when Mike brought up James' "advances." And there's something remarkable about how completely she recalls her thoughts and her feelings despite both the passage of time and the effort her subconscious put into suppressing or twisting things. It's as if she's reading from a transcript; from a record made by someone else.

Gayle found the transcript analogy apt for another reason. Jennifer had spoken with authority but detachment; like a court reporter, flatly reading back a witness's answer—or someone reading from a diary, years after writing the entries. The thoughts and emotions recorded might have been real once; authentic and intense. However, distanced by time, newer experiences, and newer perspectives, the old thoughts and emotions might seem...well, not unintelligible, but perhaps not controlling anymore.

Like reading an old love letter written to an old flame. You might not doubt the genuineness of the sentiment expressed at the time, but now...now, if you remember it at all, it could almost be a scene from a movie you'd seen, a passage in a story you'd read...devoid of present feeling, of personal connection. 

Jennifer had called this meeting. Despite what was on the DVD, she'd wanted to show it to Mike. She'd answered all of his questions and taken a beating in doing so. Why? Did she intend the truth to clear the air, possibly for some sort of redemption—or to seal a verdict against her? Or was the truth the end unto itself, and whatever lay beyond, unclear to her?

All your questions may be answered soon, Doctor. Will you contribute here tonight? Do you have anything left to offer, or has this case gotten away from you? 

* * *

Mike no longer felt paralyzed. He just felt like shit.

He'd taken Jennifer apart, torching her for everything that had happened that night with James—and, by extension, everything that had happened before. He'd watched skin, then muscle, the bone burn; he could even smell it. When he'd started, he'd felt it necessary; but now that he was almost done, he wasn't so sure.

Did I offer anything insightful? Constructive? No, I pointed out the obvious—that she'd done selfish, stupid, immoral, or maybe just incomprehensible things. That I have clear and convincing grounds to divorce her. But it's not like she's denying any of it. If I'm trying to make a point, why? 

Jennifer had previously apologized for her actions many times. Granted, until tonight, the full scope of her adventure with Coltez had not been revealed—but otherwise, since parting with Coltez, she'd been a model wife. And before she'd strayed, she'd been a model wife for twelve years.

No doubt, Mike thought, Jennifer should have told him where she'd gone with James and what had transpired there. That very night—she should have come home and confessed. If not then, certainly on Black Sunday.

She should have told me. 

It was one more strike against her. But she'd held back from confession, those times, for the sake of trying to save the marriage, and maybe something of her pride—not to hurt Mike, nor so that she could continue to see Coltez. And after Black Sunday...

I never pressed her for details. I passed on the opportunity and became complicit in the concealment. I had my reasons, and it doesn't excuse her failure to speak up in the first place, but since then my hands haven't been exactly clean. I may have led her to believe that I didn't want to know the rest. 

Furthermore, the concealment had only delayed this moment, a moment Mike would have had to face anyway if Jennifer had been more forthcoming sooner. Now the moment was upon him, the ball was in his court, just as it would have been earlier. What was he going to do?

What I did was beat her up. I hit a girl. Some boy scout I turned out to be. 

Lyrics came to his mind again. Lyrics from a song about a couple "giving each other some hard lessons lately / but we ain't learning." A song about "another battle" in their "dirty little war," and the aftermath:

When I look at myself I don't see The man I wanted to be Somewhere along the line I slipped off track One step up and two steps back

What, Mike wondered, was he doing here tonight? Was he moving forward, or backwards? If he couldn't move forward with Jennifer, why go backwards? Why not just...move to the side? Leave her alone?

If I can't forgive her, if I can't get past what happened...then fine, divorce her. No one would blame me. But enough...enough with the punishment. She lied to me, she was selfish and stupid, and she hurt me, but she didn't mean to hurt me. Me...I just hurt her, and I meant every second of it. 

Mike's indictment of Jennifer hadn't just been about punishment, though. As his self-reproach abated, and as he felt increasingly cold and numb about the scene they'd watched and dissected, Mike admitted to himself that cold and numb was exactly how he'd wanted to feel. He wanted closure—for better or worse—and with respect to the sexual aspects of Jennifer's escapade, he felt he'd achieved it.

What would Dr. Seymour call it—immersion therapy, maybe? Looking at it again, what Jennifer did with Coltez...it just seems pale and pathetic to me now. That scene is like a computer virus that I may never be able to get rid of, but I've quarantined it. It'll sit there on my hard drive, maybe forever, but it won't interfere...unless I pick at it...and after a while, I may pretty much forget about it. 

Perhaps, Mike thought, it was not just his clinical dissection of Jennifer's behavior that had sapped it of its previous impact on his pride and ego. Perhaps it was also Collette; a beautiful woman he could have seduced, just the previous night. Perhaps it was also seeing Jennifer, on the video, walk away from Mr. Player and his big dick, to go home to Mike. Perhaps it was also Mike's memories of the countless times he'd had sex with Jennifer; liaisons that had gone far beyond what little action Coltez had enjoyed.

Whatever it was, Mike felt he no longer had any reason to be insecure—not about himself. What Jennifer had done with Coltez wasn't any reflection on him. He'd always satisfied Jennifer, and he could attract and satisfy someone else. Jennifer was the one to feel humiliated by what she'd done; and clearly, that humiliation weighed heavily on her.

To have to watch that video and answer my questions, in the presence of Dr. Seymour no less...no wonder she's a wreck. 

Weighing heavily still on Mike was the greater problem in what had transpired between Jennifer and James—the emotional angle. Jennifer hadn't just had a little physical fling, which he might now be able to move past. If Jennifer was to be believed, she'd fallen in love with the man. How could Mike get over that? Why should he?

But if it's true that she never stopped loving me...if it's possible to love two people and have to choose... 

Well, she chose me. Doesn't that count for something? 

Mike could have gone on like that, debating with himself, all night. But he had a few more questions for Jennifer. Her answers might answer the questions he was asking himself.

"We're almost done," Mike repeated to the group. 

* * *

It broke Gayle out of her reverie. She wondered what questions Mike possibly could have left. Between what they'd covered tonight and what they'd covered in previous sessions, it seemed like there could be nothing left to say...just choices to be made.

"You told me a long time ago," Mike said, "that after that night at his apartment, you never saw him again," Mike continued. "Was that true when you said it?"

"Yes," Jennifer answered.

"Is it still true?"

"Yes."

"Since that night, you've never, ever seen him?"

"Except on that video...right."

Mike paused, as if gathering strength.

"Then tell me..." He pointed at the monitor. "How did you get that video?"

Gayle leaned forward in her chair. She had not thought to ask that question. There seemed, however, to be only one possible answer.

She got it from James. 

But how? Perhaps he had sent the video to her. It had not escaped Gayle's notice that James had continued crying even after Jennifer had left his apartment. Obviously he was a player, as Mike had suspected, but perhaps he'd fallen for Jennifer?

So out of desperation, he sent the edited DVD to Mike—only to repent, and provide the whole film to Jennifer so that she could try to save her marriage? 

But Jennifer was wincing.

That's not good. She must have gone to see him. Which means she just lied when she said otherwise... 

"Mike," Jennifer finally spoke, "I took that DVD from Peter."

Gayle did a double-take. She looked at Mike. He'd been stoic most of the night, but now, he looked utterly surprised—exactly how Gayle felt.

Peter? Who the hell is Peter? 

* * *

"Peter Wombert?" Mike asked, indeed feeling utterly surprised. "What the hell does he have to do with any of this?"

"With the video...everything. That's where I was last night, Mike—at his house. And that's where I took it from him."

Mike's surprise quickly changed to anger. "You were with Wombert last night? That's why you asked me to take care of Mikey? So you could go to that asshole's house?"

As Mike leapt out of his chair, Jennifer looked on with alarm. "Mike, let me explain..."

Mike wasn't listening. "I can't fucking believe this, Jennifer! As if Coltez wasn't bad enough, now you're carrying on with...and to think, last night, I...while you...you..."

Suddenly, Mike's anger yielded to something else. He sat down again, virtually collapsing into his chair, and brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

"Mike," Jennifer pleaded, "I've not been 'carrying on' with Peter! But last night, I had to—"

"I can't fucking believe..." Mike continued, his voice cracking.

"Jennifer," Gayle interrupted, loudly. "You said you took it from him?"

Hearing the question, Mike stopped babbling. He opened his eyes, looked at Gayle, and then at Jennifer.

"Yes," she answered, looking at Mike. "I took it from his computer. In his office, at his house. After...after I attacked him."

Confusion now ruled Mike's expression and voice. "After you...but how did Peter get..."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you this before, Mike. I was afraid of what you'd do, of what could happen to you...or us. And, I was ashamed and terrified. Terrified of the real horror of this whole mess. Then, once I held back, it just never...I just never saw a way to tell you without making things worse. I've paid dearly for that, Mike, in ways you can't imagine. Not that it makes a difference."

"Wait...back up," Mike said, befuddled. "Peter...what about Peter?"

"Peter was in love with me, Mike."

Mike looked on with shock, intrigue, and perhaps fear. Gayle did the same. Jennifer shook her head, her face showing disgust.

"At least, whatever passes for love in his twisted universe. All those years, he was hoping that our relationship would...give way...so that he could have me. But I was always so in love with you, he never had an opening. Plus, I was so uninterested in him in any romantic way, well...no opening could have been wide enough.

"But he didn't know that," Jennifer continued, "and he did something...insane. He sent James after me. To try to seduce me, to ruin me...or at least, ruin me for you. One way or another, to ruin our marriage, leaving me alone and vulnerable. Peter thought that would give him the opening he needed."

"James..." Mike said slowly, having trouble absorbing what Jennifer was saying. "James was a friend of Peter's?"

"No, Mike. James is a professional...I don't know what you'd call him; a seducer, I guess. Peter hired him, Mike. Hired him to make friends with me, get me to...cheat on you."

Mike was floored. It sounded so incredible. He wondered if Jennifer was playing some trick on him.

But then, why would she? Why not just admit she got the video from Coltez? She's admitted to far worse tonight. 

And Wombert, that asshole—yes, I could believe it. Motive, means, opportunity...yes. But still, should I believe it? Is this just another lie? 

"You said 'Wombert'?" asked Gayle. Mike had forgotten all about her. She was standing by the monitor, scanning through the DVD backwards.

"Yes," said Mike, "why?"

"Something...it just sounded a little familiar...here it is, I think."

Gayle had located the video captured by the camera in the hallway. She started it just after James had led Jennifer to the bathroom. The point where he'd stood nearby, talking on his cell phone—the words seemingly lost when they'd listened earlier.

She played the scene with the volume turned way up high. After several repetitions, they all understood what James had said into his phone:

"Mr. Wombert? I thought you would like to know that I think tonight is the night. Do you remember my address? I have my whole apartment rigged with cameras. Be waiting outside in one hour to get your proof."

Gayle stopped the video and returned to her chair as Mike rose from his. He started pacing the room—prowling, even. He let loose a stream of obscenities that startled both women in the room, until his monologue turned internal.

Mother fucker. Mother fucker! I fucking knew it, way back when. I knew it, but she denied it, and I thought...I thought I would be a big man and not interfere with their friendship. More than twelve years of bullshit I put up with, and all the time, he was playing us. Mother fucker. 

Mike was about to leave—about to head over to Peter's house and strangle him—when he suddenly thought of Richard Davis, Collette's ex-husband. Then, he thought of Collette. He didn't quite grasp the connections, but the thoughts brought him back to Jennifer.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 04



Wombert will have to wait. Jennifer...I have to finish this with her, somehow. 

"So it was a set-up," Mike said, sitting down.

"Yes."

"How did you find out?"

"As I was leaving James' apartment building that night...well, I found Peter on the stairs. It seemed an impossible coincidence. Plus, he couldn't get his story straight. Eventually, I got the truth out of him—the whole story."

Mike looked at Jennifer with amazement. After what she'd been through that night, at the hospital...and with Coltez...she'd had the wherewithal to confront Wombert and force a confession out of him?

"Is that why you cut things off with Peter a week or two later?"

"Yes. But I used him first. I used him to take a shot at James, to hurt his pride. And I made him pay James' fee—twenty-five thousand dollars, if you can believe that. He didn't earn it; or maybe he did. Why else are we here tonight...but no, I take that back. We're here because of me.

"Look," she continued, "none of this business with Peter matters, Mike. You're going to divorce me. You have to divorce me. You have to find someone else. After last night, I know you can...and that you should."

"I'll make my own decisions in this," Mike said, to no one in particular. He was seething with anger and barely heard what Jennifer had said. Riding his tiger, he was focused on the hunt.

"So you tried to get a little payback on...Coltez? The man you...the man you loved?"

"Loved, yes—past tense. I hated him once I found out he was a fraud. Only, there was some...overlap...between the love and the hate. It wasn't easy, Mike, to get over what we experienced...what I thought we experienced. But it was really only me who experienced anything. I was just a target to him; a job."

Mike let out a sound that sounded like a growl. His fists were clenched tight. He was barely able to sit in his chair. He had a vision of walking up some stairs, to an apartment, with his large trail-blazing knife...

It's good for cutting down weeds. But no, you're going to have to wait too, Coltez. If Jennifer had told me this on Black Sunday...either I wouldn't have believed her, or one of us—you or I—would probably be dead right now. It might still turn out that way, but not tonight. 

Mike dismounted from his tiger and held it by the tail.

"So Coltez was done with you that night," Mike said, "which means...it was Peter, all those weeks later, who sent that DVD to me."

"Yes, Mike."

Mother fucker. 

"How did you convince him to give you the rest of the video?"

"I didn't, Mike. Like I said before, I took it from him. I tried, first, to convince him to give it to me. First I tried to charm him, then I begged, I...I debased myself, Mike. But it didn't work. He figured he had leverage over me because of it. So he...blackmailed me. That's why I asked you to take Mikey last night. Peter insisted that I have dinner with him...alone...at his house."

Mike felt lightheaded, nauseous, and on the verge of a heart attack, all at once.

"So I went to his house," Jennifer continued, "last night. He made me dress...inappropriately. And he...did things to me. But it was nothing like when I was with James, Mike! I've been honest about how I felt with James. But with Peter, it was pure disgust and fear."

"Jennifer!" Mike cried, his head falling into his hands. "You didn't have to...oh god, don't you know how infinitely worse this is to imagine, to live with, than what you did with Coltez? I can't live with it, Jennifer... Shit, I should just go over there, right now, and get it over with. Kill the bastard, and then...and then..."

"Mike, that's not what I meant. Peter felt me up a little, and it was awful...but that's it."

Dropping his hands, Mike looked up at her. "Huh?"

"He didn't have me, Mike. He started to touch me, but then I made him show me the video. And then, like I said, I...attacked him."

Mike looked on quizzically.

"I knocked him out, Mike. Hit him in the back of the head. Kicked him...kicked him in the crotch, to put him down all the way."

"You knocked...but you couldn't have known for sure you'd have a chance, and my god Jennifer...to go alone! If he meant to..."

"Oh, he meant to."

"Then he might have..."

"Yes. It was a risk, Mike. A horrible risk, but I had to get that video. I didn't know if I would browbeat him into letting me have it, or if I would grab it and run, or if I'd have to fight for it. I didn't know, Mike, but I went. I had to get that video."

"Why?"

"To show you, Mike. To show you that I didn't lie...not about everything. Maybe so you'd take me back, but if not...at least you'd know the truth and be able to get on with your life, get away from the nightmares. You must have had them, Mike... I've had them too."

Mike nodded, slowly but affirmatively.

"But now," Jennifer continued, "I've had to face the reality of what's on that video. What I did, what I said, what I felt. This was my trial, Mike. My trial, and now...

"Mike, I'm sorry to have hurt you again, with what you saw on the rest of that video...with everything you know now. I hope, after the pain eases, the truth will somehow...you know...set you free. Free you from me. I'm so sorry, Mike...so sorry..."

Mike looked away for a moment, then felt something bubble up inside him. It was a laugh.

"You really...you really kicked Wombert's ass?"

"I guess I did," Jennifer replied, allowing herself a weak smile. "I hit him in the head three times with that thing he bought in Africa that he would never shut up about. Then I kicked him in the balls, twice, until he was curled up on the floor...and then I kicked them again. I never meant to do so much, but once I started..."

Mike thought again about Collette and what he'd said to her the previous night.

"You were a victim, Jennifer. You made some mistakes, but given what you were up against...and you're taking responsibility...and to take on Peter like that..."

"But Mike, in a way—the way that counts—Peter has nothing to do with any of this. That's why you have to leave me."

Mike and Gayle looked at Jennifer with incomprehension. Of course Peter had everything to do with the couple's predicament. Why would Jennifer suggest—

"Mike," Jennifer continued. "You know everything that happened at James' apartment that night, but there are more things I need to tell you. Things I've known, deep down, but didn't grasp—or simply wouldn't face—until last night. Things that horrify and disgust me even more than what's on...that," she said, pointing towards the DVD player.

Mike reared up in his chair.

"Jennifer, enough with the punishment already. We've talked for weeks about what happened before...that," Mike said, nodding to where Jennifer had pointed. "Your bad judgment in letting your sister, that whole trauma with her, lead you to deceive me about the hospital. That stuff's not any worse than what I saw you and heard you say in that video. Why go over it again? Besides, now that I know how Wombert and Coltez were out to get you—"

"But that's just it, Mike," Jennifer interrupted. "You asked me earlier about James' advances—"

"Yeah. And now I can imagine it even more. This heat-seeking missile, this hired player comes up to you at the gym—"

"No, Mike, no."

"No...what?"

"He didn't come up to me, Mike. I...I approached him."

* * *

Gayle was reeling from the double-whammy.

First, there'd been Jennifer's disclosure of a connection between this Wombert fellow and Coltez. Gayle had suspected all along, however, that there was more to Coltez than Jennifer knew or had revealed. As incredible as the story sounded, to Gayle the pieces fit; of course, the phone call, captured on the video, confirmed it.

For a moment, it had seemed Jennifer had emerged from the fire Mike had lit—scarred and blistered, sure, but still alive. Yet her emergence had seemed reluctant; it was as if Mike was pulling her out, against her will. Indeed, she had just stepped back into the fire, while Mike looked on in horror.

She approached James? 

* * *

Mike wanted off this train. Too many curves, taken too fast. He was trying to be the engineer, but the controls were not responding. The brakes weren't working, and Jennifer had just shoveled more coal into the firebox.

The revelation that Coltez had been a set-up, orchestrated by Wombert, had been like a lifeline. Surely that changed things, he'd thought. It put a new spin on Jennifer's deceptions and her emotional entanglement with Coltez. Whatever love she'd felt for him, or thought she'd felt for him—it had been a contrived love. He hadn't earned it. To Mike, that made it seem...phony. Not real.

Not a marriage breaker...maybe. 

The revelation of Peter's scheme wasn't a cure-all, but it was something Mike thought he could work with. Definitely, in fact. Finally, there was a light—a pale light, but a light nonetheless—perhaps signifying the end of this dark tunnel he'd been traveling. But now, Jennifer was trying to extinguish that light.

She approached Coltez? 

* * *

"I noticed him, Mike. The day I met him...I noticed him, before he ever seemed to notice me. He was getting ready to bench press, and he'd set a lot of weight. I noticed him, and I...I went over to him and offered to be his...spotter, I think you call it."

"But you..." Mike stammered. "You were just...trying to be nice, I suppose."

"I told myself that. But I'd been at that gym for a year, and I'd never tried to help any men lift weights before. And you've seen him—he's ripped, Mike. Why would I randomly choose him to be the first guy I would think to try to help? No, I'd noticed him, he was really good-looking...he seemed to be alone...and when he seemed to need help, I approached him."

"At which point," Mike said disgustedly, "I'm sure he was all over you, sweet talking."

"No. He acted embarrassed, called himself an idiot, and told me he didn't want to trouble me. I could have walked away, Mike. But no, I insisted that he let me help him! So I stood behind him, my shorts right above his head, while he did his set. I teased him! And the whole time...the whole time I was thinking about how attractive he was."

"But that's how he operates," Mike said, his voice betraying doubt. "He gets noticed, because he can."

"Maybe, but I didn't have to approach him, just because he was handsome. I wasn't drunk, or on drugs, or hypnotized, Mike. I made a choice."

"A choice..." Mike said, his voice trailing before regaining some strength. "But if you hadn't approached him, eventually he would have approached you. He would have found some excuse, some opportunity. That's why he was there."

"Yes, but that would just have presented me with the same choice. I get hit on all the time, Mike. Right at that gym, even. I'd always ignored it. But for him...obviously I would have made the wrong choice."

"Okay...but then he played you, Jennifer. Having gotten your attention, he dipped into his bag of tricks. He hit on you, got something going..."

"I guess, Mike, but it was pretty oblique. I told him I was married. He looked at me like I was accusing him of something, and he told me he wasn't looking to date. I felt bad, like I'd insulted him; I even thought to myself, 'This man's not hitting on you!'"

"So he was sneaky..."

"Maybe, but so was I. Next thing, we were on the treadmills, and I kept checking him out and thinking about him. I even...compared him to you, Mike. And I thought...that you were handsome, but he was...like a fine painting."

Mike looked down and swallowed hard. "That's hard to take, Jennifer, but he is...well, good looking. And I have to admit, as beautiful as you are, I can't always help but check out...pretty women who come into my field of view at that gym. The thing is, I don't act on it, and with you and Coltez...it would have stopped, right? Except that he kept after you?"

Jennifer sighed and shook her head.

"No, Mike, that's not what happened. I restarted the conversation. Yes, me! I apologized to him for making him feel awkward, and I...complimented him. He smiled at me, and it made me feel...flush. Oh god, Mike, I'm so ashamed...I just want to curl up and die!"

Mike was starting to feel the same way. He swallowed hard again.

"Alarm bells should have been going off, Mike. Maybe they were, but still, I kept talking to him. I asked him about his job. That's when he told me that he volunteered at hospitals. I gave him that opening, Mike. And...I complimented him, again. He brightened at that. He said he would be coming to gym a lot and asked if we could keep each other company."

"See!" Mike exclaimed, suddenly feeling a little better. "That was his plan in action."

"Yes, Mike, but I had a choice. I could have blown him off, but I told myself it would be nice to have someone to talk with, so I said, 'Sure, I'd like that.'"

Mike opened his mouth but seemed to struggle for something to say.

"I knew it was wrong, Mike. I felt guilty that night. That's why I woke you up and gave you...you know...that blowjob."

"Well, it's not like I didn't enjoy it," Mike said, forgetting that Dr. Seymour was in the room. "And I'm sure the next time you were at the gym, he made a point of finding you, hitting on you, showing off for you."

"No, Mike...just the opposite. Even after feeling guilty that first night, you know what I did when I went back that Thursday? I wore my skimpiest workout clothes, Mike. I wore them for him.

"I was hurt that he hadn't hit on me the time before, and I wanted to...you know, make him notice me, to salvage my pride. So I looked around for him, found him, and I...checked him out. I stood there, admiring his body; then, I went up to him."

Mike wanted to offer an excuse, a justification; but nothing came to mind. He looked on with concern as Jennifer continued.

"I went up to this man whom I found sexually attractive and who was not my husband, and in my skimpiest clothes I said, 'Good to see you again!' Then I bent over and gave him an eyeful...an eyeful of my breasts. And it—excited me."

Mike struggled to keep things in perspective, but fresh feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, and betrayal stabbed at him. "S-so you flirted with him...just a spontaneous thing..."

"No, Mike, I planned the whole thing. And after flaunting my body, I just kept talking to him. I thought about you, how you wouldn't like it if you had seen me; but I did it anyway, Mike. I put my vanity, my pride, and my interest in him first...and you last."

Mike hesitated, at a loss for what to say. Then, with a look of hope, he said, "And that's when he told you a sob story about a kid dying at the hospital, right? He pushed your buttons, Jennifer. He knew you had a soft spot for children. Maybe he even knew about your sister. Wombert could have told him."

"Yes, Mike, I'm sure James knew. But so what? When he asked me to go with him to the hospital, I could have chosen to say no. Or I could have said that I'd have to talk to you first. In fact, I did think about what I would tell you, Mike. You know how I answered myself? 'It doesn't matter.'"

Mike winced and nearly brought his hands up to cover his ears.

"And so I accepted his invitation. Just like that! Then I went home...and lied to you. I flat-out lied to you. I did it again, the next morning. Then that night, when I arrived at the hospital...my heart fluttered when I saw James. I felt flushed when he shook my hand.

"We went in, and after it was over, I was shaking with emotion. James came over, and I...collapsed against him. I let him comfort me...let him hold me. I cried on his shoulder."

"But it was emotional for you," Mike interjected.

"Yes, Mike, but a wife isn't supposed to lie to her husband, sneak out to meet a man she finds attractive, and put herself in a position to have an emotional experience with him! Or give him an opportunity to impress her; he impressed me so much with those kids, Mike! After it was over, I was in the parking lot, we were saying goodbye, and I realized I might be falling for him!"

Jennifer hung her head. "I realized it, Mike! And what did I do? Did I run like hell? When he asked if I would do it again, did I say no? Wrong! I said 'yes,' Mike...I said 'yes'...

"And then...he drew near me. I thought he was going to kiss me. It...drove me wild, Mike. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so badly. He didn't kiss me; he just said goodnight; but he got so close, it left me shaking. All the way home, I worried about it."

Mike fidgeted in his chair, his eyes searching the room for some sort of comfort or distraction.

"But what did I do when I got home? Did I confess that I'd lied to you, beg your forgiveness and promise I'd never see him again? No, I covered up again, Mike. Then I ran off to bed, leaving you alone.

"And while I was in bed, Mike, I regretted it all. But did I change my mind? No. I kept going to the hospital with him. I kept flirting with him at the gym. And I kept lying to you; kept covering up what I was doing, for weeks. I didn't mean to disrespect you by it, and I wasn't trying to...start an affair with him...but still..."

Mike's head was in his hands now. "But Coltez made moves on you; it's what players do. He sweet-talked you, probably derided me..."

"No, Mike. James sometimes mentioned you; he...acknowledged you. I think that was...expertise on his part. I think he knew that if he put you down, I would react so strongly, it would break the spell...so he never said anything bad about you. He never suggested that I not tell you about him, that I not tell you about the hospital. He never said I shouldn't invite you to come with us."

Jennifer clenched her teeth and grimaced.

"I did all those things, Mike! I covered everything up! And I made all the excuses for it...that my feelings for him would pass in time, that if I told you, you would try to stop me from going to the hospital and I'd have to quit on those poor kids. Then came that night that Kevin died and...well, we've been over that.

"You know everything that happened, now, Mike, and I'm so sorry. I'm not asking you to forgive me. I know you can't forgive me. And even if you could...I wouldn't let you, Mike. I don't deserve you. I can't let you waste your life on me. To see me every day, and feel nothing but pain."

* * *

Mike hesitated. It had gotten so incredibly complicated.

Yeah, she made a lot of bad choices—some of them, extremely selfish. If she weren't admitting to them...I'd be done with her. But she sat there, took everything I threw at her...didn't put her hands up, didn't duck or dodge. And when I was done, she took the flamethrower out of my hands and turned it on herself. 

"I don't know, Jennifer. You say the guy is a professional. And...look, I don't like saying this, but he's also...a stud. Add to that skills, and knowledge of your weak spots...hell, you could call him The Seducer, with capital letters.

"Am I supposed to divorce you, because after twelve perfect years of marriage, Wombert hired this guy, and he got to you, for a little while? Divorce you despite everything you've done to try to make it up to me, and what you've put yourself through?"

You ended things with Coltez even before you knew about his game. You went through counseling with me. You went through hell to get the video. You've gone through hell again here tonight... 

"Fine, Mike, call James 'The Seducer'—but you're still missing the significance of what I did."

Mike braced himself for another unpleasant surprise.

* * *

Gayle marveled at the reversal of her patients' initial roles. The prosecutor was now the defense attorney. The defendant...well, she was now her own prosecutor, judge, and jury.

And something told Gayle that Jennifer's self-immolation was far from over. As Mike reached out to her, Jennifer called in the bombers for a napalm strike. Somewhere in town, the first notes of a Doors song began to play. The apocalypse was...now.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 05



When a film is released on DVD, the studio often will try to entice buyers by including "extras" such as "making of" documentaries, director's commentaries, deleted scenes, etc. For my re-release of The Chanceys as Tunnel of Love, I thought I'd try to add value with some similar extras. It also seemed like a convenient way to collect, reflect on, and respond to the feedback I received and maybe help other new authors avoid some mistakes I made. 

If knowing how the sausage gets made tends to spoil your appetite, if you prefer to develop your own interpretation a story, and/or if you have no interest in becoming a contributor to Literotica, you may want to turn back now.

FROM READER TO AUTHOR—PART I

"Longtime reader, first time author"—that was me, when I started writing The Chanceys. I'd begun a few potential submissions to Literotica but had never finished them. I had pretty much decided to remain just a reader when The Seducer: Mission Impossible ("TS:MI") by Austin.erotica posted and spurred me into action.

I was perplexed by the Jennifer Chancey character, an ambiguous heroine who seemed to have unresolved "issues" that could warrant a spin-off. Also, I was intrigued with how her husband Mike—who barely appears in the story—could have been in the dark the whole time of her adventure with "The Seducer," how Mike might eventually have discovered it, and what consequences might have ensued. Furthermore, I thought TS:MI raised interesting questions about the Loving Wives genre, which I'd been trying to explore in my unfinished stories.

I'd seen precedent on the site for alternative endings or continuations of other authors' stories. Just to scratch the itch, I penciled out a very rough outline of a sequel to TS:MI and wrote about a chapter and a half. I expected I would lose interest in the project, as I had in others I'd begun—but I didn't. So, I sent the draft to Austin, half-hoping he'd tell me to get lost!

But when Austin graciously gave me the green light, I decided to go for it. I found a volunteer editor (CopperSkink) and sent him Chapter One while I worked on Chapters Two and Three. CopperSkink's remarks about Chapter One were, ahem, honest, but when I got cold feet, he dared me to post it anyway. So I made some revisions, sent it in, and totally freaked out when it posted.

"The Chanceys" being my first time out—with a risky concept and a first chapter that didn't do much on its own—I was prepared for it to bomb. Sure enough, Chapter One didn't make any Top Lists. But the feedback exceeded my modest target, so up went Chapters Two and Three in pretty quick succession.

Though I pillaged my other, unfinished original works for ideas (and even scenes) for this story, the foundation of course was TS:MI. Having some "givens" from which to start got me farther off the ground then I'd gotten on my own. They also proved constraining at times; staying true to the original plot and characters sometimes felt like a "mission impossible," when my own ideas and readers' comments were pulling and pushing me in other possible directions.

However, I refused to change, ignore, or "explain away" any "given" from TS:MI. I thought it would be disrespectful to Austin and cheating on my part. Many readers who commented on my story—including Austin—appreciated the consistency between his tale and mine. Funny, now that I think about it, that fidelity was my golden rule when writing a story about infidelity.

Speaking of infidelity, I tried to learn from (or more accurately, imitate) titans of the Loving Wives genre, including S-Des, K.K., Ohio, and Longhorn_07. In fact, my story is as much about the Loving Wives genre as it is a part of it; that was the secret agenda of the project. Sadly, I must have disguised the agenda too well, because it didn't seem to catch many readers' attention.

DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY—PART I

Prologue & Chapter One

What kind of man is Mike Chancey? Very little is said about him in TS:MI. He's identified as a software engineer. We're told that "in Jennifer's heart and mind," Mike is "manly" and "very good looking." Speaking to James, Peter Wombert derides him as "a fucking boy scout. You know what I mean? The kind of man who cries at movies, shares all his deepest secrets with his wife...."

Mike appears in only four scenes in TS:MI. There's the quickie sex scene in the morning on the day that Jennifer meets James, the blowjob scene that night, a brief morning scene on the day that Jennifer first visits the hospital, and a dinner scene after Jennifer returns from that first visit. Presumably because it's inessential to TS:MI, we're told nothing about how Mike gets along as "the weeks pass by" or what happens when Jennifer comes home after being at James' apartment.

From the limited "givens," I imagined Mike as an intelligent, logical, decent, and sensitive fellow. Discounting Jennifer's impression of Mike for her love factor, I imagined Mike as decent looking, but not "very good looking." (I never described him physically, however; I thought I would let the reader do that.) I also imagined someone who in his formative years was insecure around pretty girls, who felt himself unable (or perhaps just unwilling?) to "compete" with smoother, better-looking men, and who took years to feel confident and secure in his marriage to Jennifer. Good stuff, I thought, for making drama out of what he would discover about Jennifer's adventure with James.

Sensitivity is one thing, but most LW readers dislike wimps; being one such reader, I didn't want Mike to be a wimp. While Peter's "fucking boy scout" comment was meant to ridicule Mike's "good guy" persona, I thought it could also suggest someone with a strong sense of duty, great discipline, and toughness. I imagined that those virtues would vie with his long-dormant insecurity and his heartache and moral outrage over Jennifer's indiscretions for an interesting conflict.

I also liked the idea of Mike actually having been a boy scout. This cemented some of his characteristics and helped me imagine his relationship with his son, Mikey. It also came in handy later in the story, as a reservoir of experiences Mike could draw upon in reflecting and acting upon his situation.

Plotting Chapter One was blessedly simple—I just imagined everything Mike could have perceived, thought, and felt in connection with what happened to Jennifer in TS:MI. I began by rewriting, to fit Mike's perspective, the four "given" scenes with Jennifer; then I interpolated and extrapolated. This was an interesting exercise for me, but I wasn't sure anyone else would find it interesting. I hope it works better now that it's integrated into a larger story part.

It seems clear from TS:MI that through the end, Mike was in the dark about Jennifer's adventure. One objective of Chapter One was to lay some land mines for Mike to step on in Chapter Three that would blast him into the light (if you can call it that). Jennifer's cover story as to whom she was volunteering with ("Susan") is briefly described in TS:MI, and being a big fan of the "lie coming back to haunt you" device, I built it up in my story.

Imagining that Mike would at some point express interest in visiting the hospital with Jennifer, I invented her further deception (regarding the "hospital rules"). I also considered having Mike go to the hospital despite Jennifer's lie and having him see Jennifer leave with James (or having Mike get there a little later and hear about it from the staff). I decided against that, but I still had Mike almost go to the hospital, only to be prevented by Mikey getting sick.

Chapter One includes an appearance of Collette Davis, a new character. I trust it was obvious that Mike's behavior during and after the "fundraiser flashback" was meant to provide a contrast with how Jennifer behaved with James. Some readers may also have suspected that Collette would return in later chapters as a love interest; after all, a cheating/consequence story must have another, better woman who catches the victimized husband on the rebound, right? (But jeez, a drunk divorcee? Would Mike really get so desperate?)

Chapter Two

Speaking of fallen women, what are we to make of Jennifer Charlotte Chancey? I'm not sure there is a definitive answer; readers of TS:MI certainly didn't agree upon one. Chapter Two was the beginning of my effort to imagine how this so-called Loving Wife went off the rails—and how she hoped to recover.

It wasn't easy. Jennifer is mass of contradictions in TS:MI. She's a "pretty boring person" who keeps "fluffy bunny slippers" by the bed; she's also smoking hot and sucks cock like a porn star when she's in the mood. She's naïve and vulnerable one moment, calculating and assertive the next. Is there any hope for making sense of this character and what she did?

It's quite possible that Jennifer was never intended by her creator to stand up under a microscope as a realistic character. She wasn't even the main character in TS:MI—that was James Coltez—and clearly, Jennifer's behavior was meant to serve James' story arc. She had to get involved with him, but she also had to pull back—otherwise, James wouldn't have had an opportunity to learn and change. Furthermore, there would have been little suspense and eroticism if Jennifer had not been described as a happy, faithful wife (James' mission to seducer her was supposed to be "impossible," remember)—or if, despite that premise, she had not fallen under his spell.

So arguably, Jennifer was more of a plot device than a rigorous, serious character. Arguably, I say, because on the other hand, Austin invested Jennifer with a lot of background, and he gave her a lot of screen time. Indeed, many scenes in the second and third chapters of TS:MI were from her point of view. Perhaps we were meant to take her seriously after all? Perhaps we were meant to be convinced that she had reasons to dally? Not good reasons, necessarily—but plausible reasons? 

Ultimately Jennifer did what she did because it's what Austin wanted her to do, and maybe we should leave it at that when we read TS:MI. In order to tell a consequence story, however, I had to do more. I resisted the temptation to seek inside information; I didn't ask Austin for explanations or clues. I worked with what everyone else had to work with—the text of TS:MI.

"If Jennifer had one flaw," we're told in TS:MI, "it was her pride." Pride, in her case, particularly involves vanity. "She worked hard to maintain a good figure," we learn, "and she loved it when men still noticed her...she secretly loved the attention she got." Soon, we see Jennifer's pride leading her down a dark path with James.

When we last see Jennifer in TS:MI, that pride rears its head again. She seems remarkably free of guilt—instead, she's filled with embarrassment and anger. "I can't believe I was handled by two people I really trusted," she reflects. "I can't believe I bought [James'] bullshit! And to think, I almost ruined my marriage for him!"

It struck me that Jennifer spoke of "ruining her marriage" like one might speak of ruining one's car. She didn't seem to feel bad for the car—rather, she felt bad that she almost lost something she liked having. Worse, she felt bad that she almost lost it out of gullibility. That didn't seem to sit well with her ego, and to compensate, she patted herself on the back for supposedly triumphing over James and Peter in the end.

Jennifer's pride and smugness seemed like the right starting place for my continuation of her story. However, just as I didn't want to make Mike a wimp, I didn't want to make Jennifer a monster (at least, not any more of a monster than she might already have seemed). Jennifer demonstrated some positive traits in TS:MI, and I suspect she was meant to be a sympathetic character. I thought it important in my story to show that she's a sweet person and a devoted teacher, and that she loved (and still loves) Mike.

Jennifer's lingering feelings for James at the end of that story was one of the things I found most difficult to handle but obligated to acknowledge and maintain in my story. So in Chapter Two, I tried to flesh out those lingering feelings and imagine how they might have affected her when she returned home from James' apartment and through her last scene in TS:MI, when she plays her little games on James and Peter. Chapter Two also explores how, once she'd played those games, she might have tried to put her feelings in perspective and move on.

Don't let this discussion of character study fool you, though. First and foremost, I intended my story to be a suspense story. Intrigue, danger, mystery, twists—I wanted my story to be kinetic, though enhanced by character development. So I was smirking with glee as I ended Chapter Two with a cliffhanger—Jennifer's world seeming about to unravel, but for reasons yet unknown to her and the reader.

Chapter Three

Chapter Three was the first of several chapters in the story to skip around in time. In fact, the entire chapter is a skip. It begins with the clock resetting to Sunday morning, where Chapter Two had begun.

Why? First, at this point, I was trying to stick to one character's point of view per chapter. Telling the story of both characters' Sundays, chronologically, would have required hopping from head to head, and I wasn't ready to try that yet. Second, after putting the reader in Mike's head for all of Chapter One, I thought we should dwell in Jennifer's for a while before returning to his. Third, I didn't want Mike's unfolding day to distract from Jennifer's reflections. Fourth, I like twists, and Jennifer's encounter with a somber Mike upon her arrival at home wouldn't have been a twist if readers had known what Mike had experienced that day. So, Jennifer got Chapter Two all to herself, and Mike got Chapter Three.

To lead Mike to his discovery of Jennifer's indiscretions, I wanted to employ as many elements from TS:MI as possible. I'd already built up the "Susan" story in Chapter One, and now, I was able to pay that off. Jennifer had spent time with James at the gym and the hospital, so I wanted Mike to go to those places. Arranging those elements, however, was tricky, and I struggled with Mike's single-day progression from trusting, oblivious husband to doubting, suspecting wreck. (I applied some fine-tuning in this revision, which hopefully makes the progression more compelling.)

Chapter Three is where I began experimenting with imagery and metaphor. I don't know how the tiger motif came to me, but yes, it could be from Rocky III. As for the wall, that was a play on a couple of references in TS:MI to a wall around Jennifer's heart, which kept out other men. Jennifer's wall didn't last long in the face of James, and I thought it would be interesting to give Mike a vulnerable wall of his own, albeit a wall that served a different purpose. I had the Great Wall of China in mind, but also "the Wall" from George Martin's Song of Fire and Ice books—walls raised to keep out barbarians and demons. Pink Floyd's "The Wall" was probably a factor too.

Speaking of music, Chapter Three marked the beginning of the lyrical influences in the story. Music occasionally makes its way into Literotica, but musical taste seems rarely employed to define character. In Chapter Three, a lyric from Springsteen's Tunnel of Love album takes center stage in Mike's reactions at critical juncture.

That album took on increasing significance to Mike (and increasingly played in my head) as the story unfolded; so much so that I came to wish I'd named the series after it. I took the liberty of doing that with this revision. I've also added, to the beginning of each chapter, lyrics that had set a tone for what I was writing.

Also for this release, I shortened each of the chapters. The most dramatic cuts were to the sex scenes. I worked really hard on all of those scenes, so trimming them was a hard decision! However, I had written the sex scenes in each chapter last. I'd have an idea for the scene, but I'd just put a marker down and come back to it later. I tried to write a story that could stand up pretty well without sex scenes. Consequently, in this revision, trimming those scenes proved to be a way to shed words without disrupting the rest of the story.

I expect some will still think the scenes are too long or even unnecessary. One reader who emailed me said:

The long, graphic sexual descriptions are not central to the story. The sexual relationship between Mike an Jennifer is central; a concise description would not distract from the power of the plot vector. This is a good beginning to a very good story. Thanks for writing.

While I did trim the sex scenes in this revision, I chose not to eviscerate them because I still feel they serve important purposes. For example, the first sex scene in Chapter One (imported from TS:MI) demonstrates that our "fucking boy scout" is as horny as the next guy, not bad at actually fucking, and in tune with Jennifer's body in particular. That's important because it eliminates sexual dissatisfaction as a reason for Jennifer's interest in James.

On the other hand, that scene also shows that Mike and Jennifer face the typical challenges of the married-with-children crowd when it comes to extended or creative sexual encounters. I wanted to explore the idea that the Chanceys (and by extension, any married couple) "still have it in them" to tear it up if they make the effort. I was interested in the idea that as part of her rededication to and reconnection with Mike, Jennifer might break out of some old molds.

One of the LW genre's civil wars is between those who would interpret "loving wives" literally ("conventionalists") and those who prefer an ironic interpretation ("tabooists"). At the heart of this war is the question of what is erotic. For these early chapters, I tried to write some decent "married sex" scenes to please conventionalists and maybe give tabooists something to think about! However, respecting tabooists—readers who were disappointed by Jennifer's resistance of James in TS:MI—my story would later give them some scenes to enjoy.

READER REACTION—PART I

Chapter One

The first comment on Chapter One was rough:

PURE CRAP, B.S.—You don't need a part two—STOP HERE—don't waste any more brain cells on part two.

Comment #2 wasn't any more encouraging. It was just: "00." For you newbies, that comment corresponded to the old "thermometer" rating that used to be required as part of a public comment. Unlike in the world of James Bond, a "double-o" was not an indication of high rank!

Things started to look up in with Comment #3:

I don't know about those who have rated this poorly, but this is a great opening chapter. It lays out all of the elements of the story, gives suspense as to what 'might' be happening, as well as what is important to move the story along. I like the way you present the story in 3rd person, but also give a 1st person's POV as 'thoughts' intermixed. I visualize this technique more in a movie with the protag's voice-over to give the audience more insight. Very well done.

Over the course of the series, I received many similar comments about the intermixture of third-person narrative and first-person direct thought. I borrowed the technique from TS:MI and other stories, despite reading that technically it's a big no-no. Based on the positive reader response, it seems some rules can be broken on Literotica.

Comment #3 also mentioned "suspense as to what 'might' be happening." I wrote my story so that it could stand independently from TS:MI, but I expected that it would be read by people who had read TS:MI. So, I intended Chapter One to be full of dramatic irony—the reader would know what Mike doesn't. As it turned out, my story reached many who had missed TS:MI. On those readers, the dramatic irony was lost, but in its place, the chapter held suspense. That was a trade-off I had not anticipated, and it challenged and affected my later writing.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 05



Some who had missed TS:MI took advantage of the link I provided and caught up with it after reading Chapter One of my story:

Nicely done and well written...Your chapter adds to the previous story and defines the emotions that would have been felt from the husband's side. Although Mike isn't aware that Jennifer has been lying to him, or she has feelings for another man, he does feel something isn't right with him and his wife. I'm glad I read your chapter first, for it clarifies a lot of the feelings, that wasn't addressed in the first story, of the husband. Thanks for the post and I'll be watching for the next chapter.

I also received comments from my target audience—readers who had followed TS:MI when it came out:

This is all white, while "The Seducer" was all black. I consider both views too one-sided, but let's see what unfolds.

Conventionalists and tabooists were lining up for a battle:

Thank you. I like the story. My only problem is that since the original was a little open ended, I filled the rest in. So rational or not, I will resent it if you veer from "my story" (by the way, it is where the wife keeps her integrity - at least as much as it is). But this extension is "your story"" now and I admire that you got it down and published in good shape. Best of luck!

I'm a big fan of the original series. I hoped that Austin would continue it. I'm glad that you've filled in the cracks relating to Jennifer, since she was such a beautiful character. However, I have a feeling this is going to be one of those fairy tale endings. That's ok if it's your thing, but I come to this site to read erotic stories... not stories about a husband and wife having sex and living happily ever after. Going to this site is a way to get out of the real world and fantasize. Jennifer cheating on her husband is a very intriguing fantasy and I want to hear about that. I think she should have some kind of sexual encounter with Peter, the old friend. It would be a sign of the innocent happy wife caving into lust and taboo, which is dark and intriguing, and erotic.

There was peril in provoking such a fight, however—a dilemma faced by all authors of LW stories:

Nice Clean Set-up...I thought that the sex was well presented but I got the impression from the commentaries that if it wasn't naughty they would not get excited no matter how well done! The problem is that there are others who will declare war on the piece when she cheats! Nice work but do not expect many positive experiences!

...you write good but I don't like the storyplot so maybe my votings will not be so good in the future as I tend to vote lower when I don't like what the characters do.

For a set-up chapter, Chapter One did okay in the voting and earned a nod from author GaryAPB, who commented, "A very good start. I look forward to Chapter 2."

Chapter Two

Chapter Two attracted plenty of readers but prompted just seven public comments and a smattering of emails, including:

Well done and very fast moving. The story keeps my attention and leaves me wanting more.

Definitely not Dragnet style but really does get you feeling that you are in someone else's shoes watching the world go by...

It took me awhile to remember....the original story. It was hard because of the slightly ethereal and ponderous writing style. Yet it augments the feeling of this narrative unveiling within the narrators mind. Always surprises me when something as basic as anal worship portrayed this way on lit. This writer draws one in, rather expertly. Just wish it were all posted more closely, chronologically.

Despite the "slightly ethereal and ponderous" bit, I was glad for some positive feedback on a sex scene—finally! But oh, how fast things change:

[W]ell written[but] for my taste, too much sex. But I really enjoy the story. Best of luck and thanks!

There was a "100." Followed by a "00." Ah, the LW genre...

Finally:

If she doesn't realize the evil in James yet, she will, what she did to her family will last a lifetime. Good story, I will wait for the rest, thanks.

Chapter Three

When I posted "the rest" I'd written so far—Chapter Three—I asked readers whether they wanted the story to continue. At the outset of the project, I'd been nervous as to how a spin-off from TS:MI would be received and whether anyone would find my novice writing style tolerable. I'd gotten a fair amount of feedback on Chapter One but little on Chapter Two. After Chapter Three, I was ready to pack it in, if readers were.

Some readers said yes:

A rambling theme in search of direction and plot. Quit. Take a class...from the back of a matchbook. It would be better than this crap.

Since you asked, you can quit at any time. I didn't feel it was necessary to begin with. The original story was perfect.

I don't think a sequel was necessary and this one is leaves a lot to be desired. Continue if you want, it doesn't matter to me. I'm bailing, thanx.

More readers, however, encouraged me to keep going:

Your plotting and characters are excellent and your ability to express yourself in English is clearly no problem. I'd like to see where you take this story. Please continue!

Pain and anguish raises its ugly head. The boy scout is about to feel the real pain that she let into their marriage. A damn good story, written with a lot of passion. Sad that the truth has to come out but, maybe their marriage will roll with the punches. Thanks for a very good chapter.

All I can say is please continue. Your plot is very good. Even better is some of your descriptive style. The wall analogy is excellent and the way you describe his feelings as he learns of her lies actually made me feel dizzy. Great writing and especially impressive as you say this is your first try. Well done, please continue.

Great story. I thought the story was great. I caught my wife having an affair and the emotions expressed her are very real to me. I understand the metaphor of the tiger well. I have always been a physical person and have worked to keep my anger under control, so I have a large tiger in a heavy cage, ready when I need him.

I was happy to see someone mention the tiger, but not everyone was keen on my imagery:

I appreciate the metaphors etc but it's getting a bit redundant, wouldn't you say?

Too many metaphors but otherwise great writing and I love how the authors was/did show how Mike slowly put the pieces together...

I can't list all of the other comments on Chapter Three here, but here's one that was somewhat prescient:

I think it would be interesting to place bets on whether or not there will be reconciliation. So far, this story seems very realistic. I can't see how reconciliation would work without professional counseling. It would also be nice to work in some punishment for both James and also for Peter. Messing with someone's marriage requires some just desserts. Thanks for writing.

I don't know if bets were being laid, but certainly requests and demands were being made:

Now, don't take this the wrong way, but it isn't really your writing, which is fine, that has been compelling me to read. It's the story. I have to know what happens. Yeah, Jennifer betrayed Mike, but it wasn't something unforgivable and was pretty tame compared to the majority of other stories here. I want to see their "happy ending."

Please end your story how it should...with them together! I am a hopeless romantic.

In addition to wanting to engage conventionalists and tabooists with the sexual directions of the story, I wanted to open a front in that other civil war in the LW genre. It's the war between those who tend to favor reconciliation ("compassionists") and those who tend to favor divorce ("hard-liners"). But interestingly, after three chapters, no one was calling for Jennifer's head just yet. Perhaps Chapter Two had done just enough to rehabilitate Jennifer to take the edge off. Or maybe the hard-liners were just keeping their powder dry...

Meanwhile, on the sexual front, the tabooists were advancing:

Continue on and do let others sample the wife's charms. She has had only one chip, let her "eat" the whole bag mate.

[Jennifer] is hot and everyone's wet dream... but hearing about her sexual escapades with hubby is boring and not erotic. She already cheated on husband...so go ahead and unleash the animal within her.

It seemed that by the end of Chapter Three, I'd succeeded in drawing out most of the LW factions (and I knew the hard-liners would march to battle soon enough), but how was I going to pull off this story without one or all factions calling for my head? Not bloody likely! (Well, blood was likely.)

And the pressure was building in other ways. In the succinct style that marks his stories, author Cloacas commented: "Well told, nicely put together story." Wow—first GaryAPB and now Cloacas were reading my silly tale? To say that panic set in would be an understatement.

* * * * *

FROM READER TO AUTHOR—PART II

When reading comments on other authors' stories, I've often seen complaints about "contrivances."

I think that critique is often misplaced. Everything that happens in a fictional story is made up by the author. And if the story is well thought-out, everything happens for a reason, a purpose the author chooses. If that's contrivance, then all fiction is contrivance.

However, like everyone else, I dislike rude contrivances. You know: Well-defined characters suddenly and inexplicably acting out of character. Problems that seem silly or stupid. Solutions that the characters haven't earned. What some call "contrived plots."

Yet when an author is making everything up, how is he to know exactly where lies the line between plotting and contrived plotting? How much latitude should the reader allow the author so that she can execute her story concept? Given that truth is often stranger than fiction, is it possible that we would find many true stories "contrived" if we were to judge them as critically as we judge fiction? Do we ask that our fiction be more realistic than reality?

I faced these issues repeatedly as I plotted how and when Mike would learn the details of Jennifer's adventure and what consequences would ensue. 

I wanted to write a long story. I wanted suspense, ups and downs, twists and turns. Lots of time and room for character development, exploration of the possibilities with which TS:MI was pregnant, and exploration of the LW genre in general. None of that would have been possible if in Chapter One, on the night Jennifer comes home from James' apartment, I'd made her tell Mike about James, what she'd done with him that night and in weeks past, and how she'd discovered Peter's obsession with her and James' true nature. 

Such an immediate confession would have precluded the events, character profiles, etc. that I wrote about in Chapters Two and Three; instead, it would have accelerated matters to where Chapter Four picks up. And, it would have truncated the rest of the story.

Moreover, I just didn't see an immediate confession as a realistic extension of TS:MI. I don't think Jennifer was of a mindset at the end of that story that would have prompted her to confess—she didn't seem to have any guilt! And because she hadn't gotten caught, she was under no pressure to confess—if anything, I figured, she'd decide it would be better for Mike not to know.

Okay, you say, but what about after she does get caught—when Mike discovers some of what she'd been up to and confronts her? I was concerned that Jennifer's incomplete confession at that point would seem contrived and/or that it would have readers upset with her. Again, however, I had a long story I wanted to tell, with twists, turns, and a thorough mining of TS:MI.

In particular, I wanted to make use of the line in that James "had his whole apartment rigged with cameras." If Jennifer told all before the video surfaced, the video would have been irrelevant. Also, bringing Peter Wombert back from TS:MI and having him send Mike an incomplete video was necessary to launch the Chanceys on separate journeys of despair and discovery in Act III and land them in Gayle's office for Act IV.

Keeping my perspective as a reader, however, I knew I couldn't just make the characters behave, for the sake of my plot, in ways no one would understand. Accordingly, I proffered explanations, within the story, for why Jennifer did not volunteer and Mike did not demand all the details of Jennifer's adventure before the video surfaced. I'd like to think those reasons—the characters' psychology, the "Mikey problem," the questions posed by Gayle—were compelling and not out of line with the things people think and do in the real world.

However, the fact remains that things unfolded in Act II the way I wanted them to unfold, so that I could write Acts III and IV. I hoped the story would be interesting enough that even if the delayed revelation seemed contrived, readers would be willing to suspend a little disbelief. In a LW story, especially one based on the premises of TS:MI, I didn't think a little suspension of disbelief would be too much to ask!

DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY—PART II

Chapter Four

Act I ended on Black Sunday, with Mike saying to Jennifer, "Why don't you tell me...about James Coltez." Many readers may have expected Chapter Four to continue the confrontation. As my editor said, he was "waiting for the explosion."

Confrontation scenes are so common, so nearly cliché, that I just didn't feel like writing one. I was more interested in what would happen to the Chanceys after the confrontation. So I took the liberty of skipping over it (and the immediate aftermath) and began Chapter Four with the couple's commencement of counseling. That helped me get out of the starting blocks, but almost immediately, I hit another wall.

I'd confined each of the first three chapters to one character's point of view. Initially, for the counseling sessions I thought I would "head-hop" and relate both characters' points of view (or perhaps, alternate between them from therapy session to session). But when I started writing, it just didn't feel right. Also, I found I was a little tired of Mike and Jennifer.

So I stepped back from them, started writing the chapter from the therapist's point of view, and suddenly I was off and running. Then a funny thing happened. I became more interested in the therapist than the Chanceys!

Therapists are a staple of LW stories, and occasionally a scene or even an entire story will be told from the therapist's point of view. However, the therapist is usually either a clinician or a sage, with no arc of his or her own. I found myself interested in crafting an earthier counselor who would not just affect the Chanceys but be affected by them. Unexpectedly, Dr. Gayle Seymour began to emerge in front of me as a protagonist, not just a plot device.

I gave Gayle some prurient traits because I wanted to add a dose of eroticism (erotic relief?) to a chapter that is otherwise non-erotic. Also, I wanted that aforementioned "earthier" vibe, and I felt that even the side characters in my story should have their sexual sides revealed. I was intrigued by the idea that like some Literotica readers, perhaps, Gayle is a straight-laced professional by day, but by night... And through her, I was able to touch upon the tension between realism and fantasy (or reality and fantasy) that seems particularly tense in the LW genre.

Gayle took on another "meta" aspect as I was writing her scenes. Readers of LW stories love to post comments—psychoanalyzing the characters, praising or criticizing their actions, etc. It's as if we play the therapist to the characters. It interested me to bring that point of view right into the story. I found that Gayle could be that proxy.

"Hearts in Darkness," the title of Chapter Four, is a play on "Heart of Darkness," the novella by Joseph Conrad upon which the plot of the film Apocalypse Now was loosely based. I was determined to get a reference to the film into the series somewhere, and I liked the foreboding tone that "Hearts in Darkness" set for Chapter Four—not just for the Chanceys but also for Gayle. The reference to Martin Sheen's opening scene in Apocalypse Now (and Gayle's thoughts during the sessions) are meant to invoke readers' oft-expressed desires for something new in the LW genre, but the reference to a "mission" is meant to set up Gayle's most important reason, in my mind, her for being a significant character in the story. More on that later.

Chapter Five

After I completed "The Chanceys," I started reading (or in many cases, re-reading) the works of some of the masters of LW. I was somewhat mortified to discover Ohio's astoundingly good piece Scenes from a Marriage, which Chapter Five resembles in title and structure. Honestly, I don't think I'd read that particular story by him before, and it certainly wasn't a conscious influence (unlike one or two of his other stories).

Indeed, I had no idea what Chapter Five would be like until I started writing it. I did not have, in my outline, "Chapter 5: a series of scenes, from the Chanceys' home or otherwise outside Gayle's office." I had nothing in my outline at all, except "during counseling, more of the consequences, working through issues, setting up for another fall."

I didn't even want to write Chapter Five. After Chapter Four, I started writing Chapter Six! Chapter Five was just this desert to me, or a wide river, that I had to cross. I thought it would be boring to write and boring to read. "Yeah, okay, Mike and Jennifer are muddling through...lots of emotions and problems...when is something going to happen?"

Eventually I imagined a stone skipping across that river, touching down here and there, but hurrying to get to the other side. A compilation of scenes, with little or no transition between them. Focusing on one scene at a time made the challenge more manageable, but still, the chapter took a long time to complete.

The confrontation scene that kicks off Chapter Five is the scene I'd skipped over in Chapter Four. I was still uninterested in a minute-by-minute, word-by-word account of what happened; besides, such an account would have been a mess—just like the confrontation itself. I'm rarely convinced by these scenes, the way they're typically written for this site; real human beings, under enormous stress, don't have conversations that would "read well" if transcribed.

The next scene, involving Collette and Bobby Davis, principally was intended to reintroduce Collette and set up her later scene in this chapter. It was meant to have an additional, deeper significance for Mike, which in this revision is now expressed rather than merely implied—if he can't tough it out and stay at home, will he be condemning Jennifer and Mikey to Collette's and Bobby's fates? And although I did not plan it at the time I wrote this scene, I later drew from it for a pivotal scene, in Chapter Nine, involving Jennifer.

The kitchen scene, with Jennifer and Mikey, is something I added for "Tunnel of Love." I felt there was a hole in the timeline that needed to be filled, that some insight into Jennifer's state of mind at the time could be helpful, and that we ought to see Mikey earlier in the chapter. The new scene also ties into some of the revealed and unrevealed elements of TS:MI and waters important seeds, planted in Chapter Four, that sprout over Chapters Nine and Ten. I was particularly interested in suggesting some connection similarity between how Jennifer ended up with Mike and how she got entangled with James.

The scene where Mike debates whether to press Jennifer for all the details of her time with James is the flip side of Jennifer's decision not to volunteer all the information. His decision, like Jennifer's was a strategic plotting decision I made and then looked for a way to graft onto Mike. And while some readers disagreed, I saw Mike's decision as being less controversial. He had a fair amount of information already, it wasn't obvious to him that there was much more to learn, and he had Gayle's admonition that knowing more might set him back. (Although some therapists recommend full disclosure in all infidelity cases, if you read around a little you'll find different views, including the "don't pick at it" view.)




Tunnel of Love Pt. 05



The scene with Jennifer and the photograph of her sister was one of the few scenes in this chapter that seemed to come easily to me. There's a very brief reference to Jennifer's sister's death in TS:MI, and I envisioned that Jennifer's trauma over that death could play heavily in the exploration of how she got so close to James. I also had a notion that it would play a role in whatever rehabilitation she might achieve. Giving the "sister" some dialogue seemed to make the scene punchier, and it provided a vehicle for some foreshadowing. (As for whether the "sister" is a ghost, an imaginary friend, a manifestation of Jennifer's subconscious, or just an indication that she's crazy—what would you like it to be?)

Mike and Jennifer's scene in the bathroom, while Mike is showering, is one of the more detailed scenes in the chapter. The renewal of sexual intimacy after infidelity is a difficult subject, and authors of LW stories have presented it in many different ways. I can't say my scene is unique, but I hope it is consistent with the characters and their situation.

Mike's scene with Collette, where she begins her turnaround, brought on another moment—like the one I'd had in while writing about Gayle in Chapter Four—in which I found myself more interested in a side character than the Chanceys. I'd always had big plans for Collette, but they'd been vague. With this scene, I felt I'd arrived at a character, not just a gimmick, but the downside was that I wanted to quit "The Chanceys" and write her story!

The sex scenes, before and after the Chanceys' night out together, were meant to contrast with the scenes from Act I. Also, each scene is told strictly from one character's point of view, which requires the reader to divine or imagine the other character's feelings and thoughts. I started out writing the scenes like that, then cheated a little, but my editor correctly reigned me in.

The restaurant scene is meant to echo the restaurant scene at the end of Chapter One, with obvious tonal differences. While writing this scene, I had Billy Joel's "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" in my head. That's how the title of Chapter Five ("Scenes from the Home Front") originated.

Initially, I hadn't planned for Peter Wombert to appear in this chapter (it was going to be the next chapter), but the restaurant scene seemed to invite him, for several reasons. First, suspense—I liked ending chapters with conflict (or foreshadowing of conflict), and given the improvement in the Chanceys' relationship, that conflict had to come from outside. Second, Peter has a huge impact in Chapter Six, and not having him in the picture before Chapter Six didn't feel right.

Third, I was always looking for little details from TS:MI to play with, and there's a detail in TS:MI about James surreptitiously watching the Chanceys at a restaurant one night as part of his research. I tried to play a trick with that detail in Peter's restaurant scene. Until the waitress reads Peter's name off the credit card slip, the reader is meant to think that the person watching the Chanceys is James. 

Chapter Six

The title of this chapter, "The Smell of Napalm," is part of an iconic line from Apocalypse Now, the film I'd invoked at the start of Act II. Peter Wombert looms large in Chapter Six, and I liked the idea of comparing Peter's revenge to a napalm strike. And like the Colonel in Apocalypse Now, I thought Peter would like the smell of it.

You've probably heard actors say that it's fun to play a villain; I found out that it's fun to write one too. Peter's first scene includes a full recap of Peter's exploits in TS:MI, for the benefit of readers who were not familiar with that story (and those who needed a "refresher"). Also, it gave me the opportunity to invent some details regarding Peter's past and imagine his perspective on the events in TS:MI. I then imagined what might have happened to Peter after those events. 

Peter's second scene furthers the plot, but it's also meant to further Peter's story arc. Yes, like the other two "side" characters (Collette and Gayle), Peter has an arc in this story. In this chapter, Peter begins to renounce his "love" for Jennifer and commit to jealousy and anger. Granted, he's heading so far into the deep end that he risks becoming a cartoon character, but in contrast to the somewhat conflicted/tragic seducer that was James in TS:MI, I wanted an unequivocally evil seducer as my villain.

Unfortunately there may be a clash between the fantastical suspense / soap opera elements of my story, to which Chapter Six returns, and the "realism" of the more introspection-and-philosophy-driven Chapters Four and Five. I was firmly committed, however, to respecting the somewhat incredible premises of TS:MI (lovesick man hires professional seducer, loving wife quickly falls for him, etc.) and trying to build upon them to create the proverbial roller-coaster ride. At the same time, however, I wanted to tell a "realistic" and "serious" story, with extensive psychological portraits, about a couple working through a bad situation.

Maybe you can't have your cake and eat it too, but I tried. It's a familiar model in the LW genre ("realistic" stories from rather unrealistic premises), and since my story was intended to be about the genre as much as a part of it, I thought that instead of shying away from the contrast I would ramp it up to the max. So while giving Peter his due in Chapter Six and ending the chapter with the video, I also included scenes of Mike and Jennifer that fit the tone and ideas in Chapters Four and Five.

The beginning of the counseling scene in Chapter Six received some re-working for "Tunnel of Love." I believe it now better reflects my intent, which was to demonstrate the Chanceys' relationship as being on the verge of repair, but only due to assumptions that the video seems to decimate. Some readers thought that my original story put too much emphasis on Mike's sexual insecurity/jealousy at the expense of the emotional/intellectual issues, while others thought just the opposite! I was trying for an even balance, and hopefully that's better achieved in this revised version.

The sex scene in this chapter harkens back to Chapter One and is meant to demonstrate Mike's emotional progress. Also, the scene is meant to invoke the hope, expressed in the scenes in Chapters Two and Three, that the Chanceys might not only restore their prior intimacy but find even higher levels of trust, sharing, and pleasure. I'm still not sure if the majority of readers found any of the sex scenes in my story essential (why no feedback, conventionalists? Are tabooists right that married sex isn't erotic, or was it just that my writing stinks?), but having laid the groundwork in earlier chapters, I stubbornly kept at them.

For the "big reveal" of the video, I settled on a four-part structure of scenes at Gayle's office. First, there's a knowing Gayle (proxy alert!) talking to a clueless but increasingly nervous Jennifer. Second, there's Jennifer watching the video, but the scene plays out from Gayle's perspective and all we hear are Jennifer's reactions. Third, there's a description of what's on the video—taken pretty much verbatim from what actually happened in TS:MI—unfiltered by any character's perspective, as if the video is playing directly for the reader. Finally, there's Gayle in her office—watching, analyzing, and reacting. I hope this structure made for some suspense. I also hope that Gayle's temptation and ultimate submission to her desires and fantasies was hot! As in Chapter Four, however, Gayle's role here was not merely to serve up erotic relief. "Meta" aspect in full bloom, Gayle was meant to invite reflection on some controversial issues in the LW genre. What, if anything, is the purpose and appeal of a cuckolding scene? Are they erotic? Why or why not? Whether erotic or not, do such scenes add or subtract from a consequences story? Are they irrelevant?

The final scene, in which Jennifer rushes home to find Mike gone, was meant to echo the end of Chapter Three, but with the stakes raised. Note that Mike did not had a scene in this chapter after his receipt of the video; I believe it would have spoiled the suspense. Also, I wanted to afford readers time to imagine Mike's reaction to the video before I laid out my vision of it in Act III.

READER REACTION—PART II

Chapter Four

After receiving some pretty nasty (and a couple extremely creepy) public comments after Chapter Three, I decided to take a "time out" and not enable a public comment board for Chapter Four. I was writing Chapter Five, I knew it was going to be the most difficult chapter yet to write, and I didn't think I could bear any distractions. Unfortunately, this meant getting less feedback on the jump ahead in time, the issues explored in the counseling sessions, and my new character, Gayle.

I still received some feedback via email:

I'm really enjoying your story, "The Chanceys."....I think the story is very realistic so far. My only concern is that mental health professionals are supposed to refer a patient or couple to another when personal issues begin to play a role. This is like a conflict of interest that causes a judge or an attorney to recuse him or herself because it is impossible to be objective when this happens. Dr. Gayle should know better, and I think she should have referred the couple to another for counseling at this point. It will be interesting to see where this is going. Thanks for writing.

Another reader not only panned Gayle but also the entire chapter:

Well, I can't help the impression that you're stalling; trying to milk this for a few chapters more but be warned that you do this at the risk of boredom. Also I'd like to voice my concern that "Doctor Gayle" isn't particularly professional at all. Not in taking her case home with her but with the way she's conducting the sessions... This only adds to my "author's stalling" suspicion. So here's my two cents and let's see where you want to take your story!

I had to chuckle at these comments because Gayle wasn't meant to be the most realistic or "professional" counselor, just an interesting character who could serve the story and my secret agenda. Most of the emails following Chapter Four suggested I was on the right track:

Love the new character. I like her separation of her professional and private lives. I like where you are taking the story.

This chapter is the best one so far and I think the story will get better as you resolve, in whatever way, this situation between them.

Great read and wonderful continuation of the original series. Looking forward to the next chapters. obvious that Jennifer has a lot to make up for. Just don't know which way this story will go, but much work to do on Jennifer's part to continue this marriage.

Fascinating story angle...full of insight to the characters and to human nature...And as always I am hoping for a fantastic ending that allows most everyone to walk away happy and better for the experience no matter how difficult the passage to get to it. I enjoy your writing and hope to see many more stories from you.

Some of the most interesting emails I received over the course of the series were from victims infidelity. Hard for me to imagine such a person being able to bear this type of story, but perhaps it can be cathartic?

My opinion is so far your direction for Mike has been better than I handled my real life event with my wife...I can say it took me that long to get over the anger and decided I wanted to salvage the marriage. Guess you could say and I'd agree, I was lucky the wife had decided she really loved me and was willing to do whatever it took and endure my pity party period as I now call it. The shrink as I affectionately called her helped us put us back on track and get past all our issues.

Chapter Five 

With great trepidation, I turned the public comment board back on for Chapter Five. The chapter had been so difficult to write, and I was so unsure of it even when it was finally done, I was expecting a collective "meh" (or worse) from readers. Sure enough, some feedback was negative:

Moving way too slow. You must love to hear yourself write.

I'm sorry to say it but you write a story and the only thing you do you make it long and boring. Between chapter 1 and 5 instead of making a big effort ( I can see that) you also could have posted A-M of a telephonebook (50%)still the same kiddie characters no truth not even in counseling that can't work ever , disaster is programmed but I guess only in chapter 10 or 11, with a sequel 12. sorry this is not working. you should go into politics. asked on politicien the other what did you say about the xxx-problem today. the other said, oh I said nothing at all. the first one, yes of course but with what words?

Mid Point??? O M G! Midpoint? DAMN! How much longer you gonna drag this out? Great story and well written, but needlessly long. I suspect this is for the authors gratification more than the readers.

Other readers were okay with the story's pace and scope:

To each his own speed. Not all of us need instant gratification. I am enjoying this as presented. Pls continue.

Don't mind the ADD types who complain about the length of the story. You are presenting a scenario, people's real emotions and how they deal (or in this case don't deal) with them. I'd have to say that if Jennifer continues along her current path then she'll never get what she wants. She may be able to put a patch on her marriage but will still be vulnerable to the same issues. Hell, she won't even admit that what she had was an affair. Mike will never know what happened and will always imagine events to be worse than they were. Until she is honest with him and herself no amount of counseling will be enough. Great story, looking forward to the next chapter.

This Is Not An O. Henry short story. It takes time, words and deep thought on the part of the author and the reader to develop a plot of this nature, to reflect accurately very good counseling techniques, and to develop characterizations of such depth, especially when working from the "givens" of another author's story. So pay no attention to the no-brain who says that counseling never helped anyone (which I assume you do anyway). I appreciate how you are building the psychological portrait of the protagonists and reflecting their growth through the counseling process. Write on, MacDuff...

Much as it's great to receive any positive comment, no matter how short, it's very helpful (particularly for someone like me who was experimenting right-and-left and had no idea what would pass or fail) to receive detailed comments, like these next ones, on what in particular the reader found was well done:

You have such talent, to bring out all the subtle emotions present just under the surface - all the longing on her part for what she has broken to return and anguish now that more fully she realizes just what she has done. All the nuances of how she was played, all her weaknesses manipulated by a player, not the compassionate man she had sensed. A soul searching expose of her inner self thoughtfully and skillfully captured and laid out in a very clever story. This has turned into a 'must read' tale...one of the best ever stories in this genre. It reminds me, in scope, of some of Longhorn_07's stories.

Very impressive. This is interesting, the way you emphasize the trust that's broken, and the traits in the characters that make them both strong and weak, that is, the same traits are both strengths and weaknesses. In the earlier installments I especially like the metaphor of the 'army of barbarians' encamped by the wall. It captured something basic...and also the way your characters recognize that some things can't be fixed, even with good intentions on both sides. Wounds can heal...but they leave lasting scars.

Having been told that the story was at its midpoint, some readers indicated where they wished the story to go. On whether Mike should take Jennifer back, compassionists continued to urge reconciliation:

Excellent Writing. The careful work here may even convince those who do not like reconciliation that she held the line and deserves being reinstated! Very erotic as well as interesting.

On whether the couple should explore the emerging opportunities for extra-marital sex, conventionalists urged faithfulness:

I love it! I hate it; it's too much! Two sweet people with danger all around them...Please keep writing but save them; I really couldn't stand to see them fail.

I am really enjoying this, I do hope Jennifer is honest about Pete's part in this drama, as far as having Jennifer fuck around with Pete, that would ruin this story cause she would just be a cheating wife who really doesn't love her family and then who would care what happens to them. Thanks.

Interesting, no hard-liners spoke out against the compassionists on whether the marriage should survive. However, on sexual front, tabooists rose out of their trenches and engaged conventionalists:

Too Predictable. All this detail but in the end it's just going to be another predictable ending...Peter gets beat up by Mike, Jennifer admits everything, Mike forgives her, they live happily ever after. You had so many great avenues to go down... Mike having affair with Collette or Dr. Seymour -- his wife cheated on him, why shouldn't he get some side action? And Peter skillfully seducing the woman of his dreams, Jennifer, who is thirsty for intimacy because Mike isn't giving it to her. That would be hot and erotic. But I'm predicting it will just be another boring reconciliation between weak husband and cheating wife. It's ok if in the end they remain together, but we want to hear sexy Jennifer in action with other men.

A few more authors chimed in after Chapter Five. I was very glad to have the endorsement of Austin, the author of TS:MI, whom I'd feared would by now be regretting his decision to let me continue the story:

Bravo! You have talent, no doubt about that! Any doubts I had about you writing this alt story have been laid to rest with this chapter. I am eagerly awaiting the rest of the story! Bravo again!

I was downright stunned to hear from Angiquesophie and Ohio, who I never imagined would even read other authors' works, much less see anything worthy in mine:

i am deeply impressed. this truly is one of the best things i read in here. a kiss for you and a sigh. (tugging away a budding envy)

Fascinating story that I'm just now catching up on. Your writing is great, and the story is very engrossing. I will be with you the rest of the way!

Chapter Six

Suspense was my number-one goal for the series, and as I'd hoped, the turn of events created by Peter's revenge in that chapter seemed to have people on edge:

Drama... I love it! I can't wait for the next installment.

Boy this is evil. Well written and scary as hell!

Hard to read - but cannot stop. Disturbing and Great!

You write a wicked tale! You Are GOOD, Aruban! Now, you have me actually wondering if Dr. Seymour can control James enough to bring Peter to his just (and hopefully very painful) "reward". Write on; your pen is doing amazing things.

Not everyone was enjoying the plot twists, however:

Are We There Yet? I am enjoying the hell out of your story, you write very well, perhaps too well. Although well written there are way too many divergence and asides to this story, it just keeps wandering on and on. Maybe you should reconsider and post this in the novels/novella section, because I for one find this lengthy tome becoming a bit tedious.

One reader though there could have been less—or else, more—of Peter Wombert:




Tunnel of Love Pt. 05



Again, the writing was good. And there is another cliffhanger! But I feel the peek into the inner thought processes of Peter was unnecessary and distracting from the primary plot. If Peter were to be developed as a main character, if we knew more about him, how he became rich, does he have children (even his height, weight, eye and hair color, cock size, whatever), then it could be part of the character development and a reasonable change of scene. In this case, however, I feel it contributed little...I think the DVD could have simply appeared at Mike's place of work without all the explanations from Peter's point of view.

But another reader disagreed:

Apparently you have thought things out ahead of time better than most authors on this site. Don't understand why [the previous commentator] would want plot devices to just show up without proper background, and yet author is correct to not diverge too much into Peter's life. We know his type, that should be enough. ["Are We There Yet?"] has a point but then I for one would not have read it, only reading the past award winners ("Back to Bristol" etc.) in that category. Thanks for the read, and for justifying the complex resolution of what I still consider a minor transgression.

Of course, Peter's part in the story was not over; he would become a main character and part of Jennifer's character development in Act III. Also, one aim of my project had been to flesh out some of the aspects of TS:MI, and at least one reader felt Peter's scenes in Chapter Six accomplished that:

A small thing that has bothered me from the original story, so I'm pleased it's raised its head again, was the apparent change in Jennifer's demeanor when handling Peter. For one, she seemed to be very aggressive and two, to flash her tits at him, even as a cruel gesture, seemed out of character. I seldom like adaptations or sequels to other writer's stories however this one is very well done.

While both conventionalists and tabooists were strangely silent about Gayle's reaction to the video (that was aimed right at you, folks!), the revelation of what Jennifer had done with James energized opinions on whether Mike should reconcile with her. For the first time, hard-liners turned out in force:

Lying bitch should have been more honest about everything. If she had been, Peter wouldn't have had this to hold over her. This whole time she's been protecting Peter and James while lying to herself and Mike. How should he take that? I hope he stays gone, he'd be better off without the heartache of trying to repair a relationship with someone why isn't honest.

Jennifer is a real piece of work...Can't Jennifer see that Mike lost his trust because of her clandestine "hospital visits" that were with another man, not with her girlfriend as she had originally claimed? She's been around the block and now her concealment, having been again brought into the open, is a second nail in the coffin of their marriage. Why should Mike believe anything else she says? Women surely know we men have very fragile egos and licking another man's cock, well, that's the type of ego-shattering move we men consider a real no-no (assuming we don't have an open marriage, or a cuckold marriage, or some other variation of that). Thanks for writing.

It looks like a tragedy is on the horizon. Excellent, a very well written tale of sorrow. Poor Mike . So hurt by the effect of Jennifer's lying, and now seeing for the first time her indiscretion, will surely never trust her again.

But some compassionists held the line:

Please please get mike and jenny back together. I have not read the original story. do not let evil win over good. I like your style of storytelling. it has kept me looking forward to the next chapter. maybe someone can prove the tape has been altered.

While I was honored to receive all this feedback, I was disappointed that there were no comments on the "meta" elements of the chapter; especially Gayle's viewing of the video. No comments about Collette's scenes, either—damn! But one reader at least perceived, and kindly acknowledged, that I intended there to be more to my story than just a twisted plot:

A new standard in compelling story telling, in the LW genre where the comments of the readers are so full of passion that sometimes you wonder if we only read the stories to get the most out of comments. Thank you Aruban for entering this fascinating domain and enriching it further - if that was possible.

I hadn't known if it was possible when I'd started, but my train sure was picking up speed. Chapter Six was the most popular chapter of the series, with an average rating of 4.7. Little did I know that like Mike and Jennifer's train had done in Chapter Six, mine was about to hit a sharp curve, which would threaten to derail it. That curve was Chapter Seven.

* * * * *

FROM READER TO AUTHOR—PART III

"But you will come to a place / Where the only thing you feel / Are loaded guns in your face / And you'll have to deal with / Pressure!" (Billy Joel)

As a reader, I'm not immune to impatience while waiting for the next chapter in a series to post. I don't think I've ever left an insulting comment about it for an author, though. Unfortunately, I received a number of such comments after Chapters Seven, Eight, and Nine. I deleted the worst of them.

One gentleman civilly summed up the mood:

I'm enjoying the story but I'm a bit frustrated with the slow pace and the delay between posting of the various chapters. I'll wager that is also frustrating to a lot of other readers; hence, some of the negative comments.

Delay between posting? Um...it's called writing, folks!

Had I written all of the chapters before beginning to submit them, I would have submitted most or all of them at the same time. Maybe it wasn't clear to readers that the story was a work in progress, but I'd said so on occasion. I wasn't sitting on finished product.

I wasn't dragging my heels, either. I was writing as fast as I could, often for hours a day, every day. This stuff doesn't write itself, and if you're shooting for depth and quality, it takes a long time, especially for a novice/amateur like me. Plus, it takes time for an editor to turn a draft around, time for the author to fix the mistakes and improve the weak spots, and several days after submission for the site editors to post it.

So all that hard work, giving up all my spare (and some not-so-spare) time, then some anonymous dude who's never posted a story of his own threatens me with a low vote if he doesn't get next delivery of free content faster? Great. I probably would have quit, had it not been for the encouraging comments from appreciative readers whom I didn't want to disappoint. 

The pressure to finish the story quickly was compounded by the pressure I felt to maintain the quality level after Chapters Five and Six were well-received and expectations were running high. Speed and quality are enemies. Although Chapters Seven through Ten went through extensive editing before posting, looking back at them later I found more room for improvement than I did in most earlier chapters.

What's the lesson? Finish a series and edit it as a whole. Then, post the installments close together. For me, that wouldn't have been possible with this story; I never would have finished ten chapters without an early test to see if there was any interest in the concept. Remember, I hadn't even been able to finish a short story before this one. But if I ever write another series, I'll do it the better way—all at one time.

Another lesson: divide a series into fewer, longer chapters instead of more, shorter chapters. I didn't have the luxury of doing that here, first time around, because it would have meant long gaps between posts, exacerbating complaints. When a story's completely written, however, there's no need to post short chapters for the sake of maintaining momentum.

With its four parts, "Tunnel of Love" mirrors its conception as a four-act play. I still like the cliffhangers at the end of almost every chapter, but I hope each act benefits from being presented in its entirety.

DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY—PART III

Chapter Seven

This chapter tells of how each of the five characters is spending the same night—the Saturday night about one week after Mike received the video. Each scene includes sexual content, meant to operate on two different levels. Each level, I hoped, would be equally effective, but in completely opposite ways.

On one level, each scene was meant to be a nightmare, and a terrifying one at that. On another level, each scene was meant to be a fantasy, and an erotic one at that. How a given reader would react, I expected, would depend on which character's viewpoint the reader subconsciously adopted and the preferences and sensibilities the reader brought to my story.

The sexual content in the first three scenes has been significantly shortened in this revision, so my agenda has been somewhat compromised, but here it is:

In Mike's dream, if you associated with Mike's perspective, then you probably hated what was happening. If I wrote it effectively, you may even have felt ill. That's certainly how I felt when I was writing it, so long as I had Mike's "presence" in mind.

However, if you ignored Mike's presence and associated with James, perhaps you loved the scene. Who could associate with James? Many readers of TS:MI, judging from the comments on that story. For example, one reader after the second installment of TS:MI implored Austin to have Jennifer "begging, and I mean begging, for James' cock." And as noted in previous DVD extras, I received several comments and emails imploring me to release "the animal" in Jennifer.

Mike's dream was a nod to such tabooists. Through the dream, I portrayed what Austin did not have Jennifer do (nor I was going to have her do for real)—become James' cockslut. Granted, the scene is over the top and slightly surreal (even more so in the full-length version in the original series), but fantasies and nightmares tend to be that way. In fact, the cliché elements are a further wink at the LW genre, where wives not only cheat but display entirely different personalities (acting like porn stars) while they're cheating.

Jennifer's dream is meant to be a feminine version of Mike's. If you associate with Jennifer, it's a nightmare; but if you associate with Collette, it could be a fantasy. In fact, it's hinted later that Collette actually has had a sexual dream about Mike. 

But whereas Mike's dream is meant to stir things up between conventionalists and tabooists, Jennifer's dream is meant to stir things up between hard liners and compassionists. If you were pulling for Mike to reconcile with Jennifer, then perhaps you railed along with her against Collette and were disappointed with Mike for falling under Collette's spell. If instead you wanted Mike to kick Jennifer to the curb, then perhaps you shouted "Serves you right!" at Jennifer and "Yeah, dump the brunette whore and get with the blonde!" at Mike.

Collette's flashback was meant to bring out members of LW factions that are not quite at war with anyone but not quite at peace with everyone either. A large number of LW stories have group sex as a main theme; lesbianism/bisexuality, reluctance, and BDSM are also frequent elements. Of course, each of themes has its own category, but if a wife is involved the story often posts in the LW category.

If you associated with Collette's point of view and her negative feelings before and after the ménage a trios, then perhaps you found the scene frightening, even sickening. However, if you associated with Richard's point of view (or that of the unnamed third participant), perhaps you found the scene erotic. And because Collette's thoughts and feelings during the threesome were not stated, you were free to imagine them. Despite Collette's reluctance, did she get aroused? Did she come? What did you want to her to feel?

Peter's scene is not a dream or memory; it's real and live. Still, like Mike's dream, it's a provocation of conventionalists and tabooists, with a twist. In Mike's dream, the wife (Jennifer) is aggressive and her thoughts and feelings are expressed, while the man (James) is largely stoic and silent. In Peter's scene, the man (Peter) is directing the action and his thoughts and feelings are expressed, while the wife (Genevieve) is submissive and quiet.

How did you react to Peter's scene? Did you curse Peter and spit at Genevieve, who not only submitted to Peter's rough treatment of her mouth but ground herself to an orgasm on his cock? Or did you think that was hot and want to know more about young Genevieve's seduction and defilement by this lovably naughty rogue, Peter?

There was no right or wrong answer, no right or wrong reaction, intended in any scene. I just wanted to provoke a strong reaction, one way or the other. Chapter Seven was supposed to be whatever a given reader wanted it to be. A mirror, or an inkblot test, in which you could see what kind of LW reader you are and on whose side you're on in this story. A vehicle for debate about what is or is not erotic.

There were other, more obvious agendas, of course. The chapter describes some events that happened during or after Chapter Six. Each scene is meant to show where the character is now, psychologically and emotionally—and in Collette's and Peter's cases, to flesh out their backstories. The scenes are also meant to foreshadow the possible direction of the plot.

Gayle's bisexual mind control story was a light bit of erotic relief from the other, darker scenes (or the icing on the cake, if you found the other scenes erotic). The mind control element had an additional purpose, however. Gayle emerged in my imagination at this point as a proxy not only for the reader but for the Literotica author. Like Gayle authoring her story, and like her story's therapist manipulating "John" (Mike's first name) and "Charlotte" (Jennifer's middle name) with hypnosis, all authors "control" the characters and make them do what the authors want them to do. What's plotting, and what's contrivance? Fantasy or reality—is this really a choice the author of fiction has?

Perhaps as a result of the pressure I was feeling, Gayle also became something of a proxy for a particular author—me. I was struggling to find the energy and focus to finish the Chanceys' story. I wanted to leave the Chanceys for a while and start writing "The Seymour Files—The Case of John and Charlotte." I wanted to write "Spare Parts and Broken Hearts—the Story of Richard and Collette Davis." I wanted to write "Ain't Got You—The Rise and Fall of Peter Wombert." But I knew I had to finish what I'd started.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight is to Act III what Chapters Two and Five were to Acts I and II. It bridges an "establishing" chapter with an "action" chapter. I wrote much of Chapter Nine simultaneously with Chapter Eight, so I knew where I wanted to go. For a time, however, I wasn't sure how to get there. I kind of wanted to skip Chapter Eight, as I'd wanted to skip Chapter Five.

I also debated whether Chapters Eight and Nine should be separate. I expected that there would be enough material for more than one standard-length chapter, but perhaps less than two chapters. What tipped the scales was pressure. I felt I needed to get a chapter out quickly, even if it might be relatively short. So, I committed to separate chapters. Unfortunately, I was penalized for this in the voting—hence my advice, above, to post fewer, longer chapters and eliminate posting "delays" by finishing all chapters and submitting them all at once.

By this time in my writing, I was very interested in parallel or inverted scenes. The first two scenes in Chapter Eight show how Mike and Jennifer, respectively, are considering what to do about their situation. The next two scenes involve each of them watching Mikey, on the same day, while talking to each other's enemy (Collette and Peter). Then, each has a telephone conversation with the other's enemy, but to shake things up and build suspense, I wrote these scenes from the enemies' points of view. After a brief scene involving Mike and Jennifer together, the chapter concludes with them separately preparing for their evenings.

Some readers asked why I did not have Jennifer go to James to get the video. The primary answer is that I never wanted James to be in my story, except as a kind of ghost that haunts it. Austin had been planning to write more stories around James, and I didn't want to compete with or crowd him. Moreover, I felt that Jennifer's adventure with James was fully completed in TS:MI. I felt that James didn't belong in a story about the consequences of that adventure for the Chanceys.

I also had reasons, unrelated to my own storytelling interests, not to send Jennifer to James. Those reasons are expressed in the scene in the den in Chapter Eight, when Jennifer intuits that James has no reason to help her and that seeing him again would put at risk the emotional separation she'd struggled so much to achieve. (It's a cardinal rule, among at least some marriage counselors, that an unfaithful spouse should never, ever re-contact the ex-lover.)

Once I decided that Jennifer should get the video from Peter, I first imagined a rather simple scenario. She would go to his house when he was holding one of his parties. Threatening to scream, to shout out her story, etc. in front of his guests, she would coerce him into turning over the video. When I got closer to writing Act III, however, I decided that for the sake of suspense and character development, I needed to put Jennifer in danger with Peter, which would require sending her to his house alone. Also, that would allow me to play off of Mike's anticipated visit to Collette's house.

Having that plan, I was able to foreshadow Jennifer's "date" with Peter in his inner monologue in Chapter Seven. When I started writing Chapter Eight, however, I still had to make up the details. It came to me that Jennifer should first invite Peter to meet her somewhere "safe" and try to work her old magic on him to get what she wanted. But she would fail, and Peter would turn the tables on her, forcing her along a more dangerous path.

The park scene would also serve Peter's story arc, as it would demonstrate how he has "outgrown" his puppy-dog weakness for Jennifer. He's turned away from thoughts of loving her and hopes of getting her to love him. Jennifer gives him one last chance to make a small gesture of contrition and possibly begin to redeem himself, but he rejects it and embraces his evil streak.

I was very interested by the idea that Peter, not James, is the real villain of TS:MI. James is Darth Vader; he's the assassin James Bond foils in an early scene. Peter is the Emperor; the criminal mastermind whom Bond must confront in the end. As Jennifer realizes in the park, James was just a tool, a trap laid by Peter—Peter was the real hunter. I liked the idea of him setting an obvious trap, which Jennifer dreadfully would have to walk into, eyes wide open.

Similarly, I was excited by the idea that Jennifer's future should be tied to suffering at Peter's hands, then vanquishing him—and more soundly than she'd done in TS:MI. Peter's continuing harassment would be the price she would have to pay, the punishment she would have to endure, in compensation for the pain she'd inflicted on Mike. Defeating Peter would also be the challenge she would have to meet in order to have a shot at redemption in Mike's eyes, the reader's, and mine!

What was also driving me to "up the stakes" in Jennifer's story arc was my increasing fascination with Collette Davis. I really enjoyed writing her scenes in this chapter and Chapter Nine. They solidified my sense that something equally dramatic had to be happening on Jennifer's front, or the story would be out of balance.




Tunnel of Love Pt. 05



The scene in which Mike visits Jennifer's classroom was probably the most difficult scene to write in Chapter Eight and one of the more difficult scenes in the entire story. I wanted to get the characters together once in Act III (they're apart in Chapters Seven and Nine), and I wanted the scene to foreshadow but not overshadow their meeting in Act IV (Chapter Ten). That made for a tightrope.

The final scenes of Chapter Eight (Mike getting ready to go to Collette's house, Jennifer getting ready to go to Peter's house) were meant to be ambiguous ink-blots, like their dreams in Chapter Seven. Is Mike planning to try to seduce Collette? Is Jennifer planning, perhaps even perversely wanting, to submit to Peter? The "true" answer to both questions, as demonstrated by subsequent events, was no—but if you wanted the answers to be "yes," there was reason to hope! And if you wanted the answers to be "no," there was reason to fear...

Chapter Nine

I had a blast weaving the two halves of Chapter Nine together. Scenes with one Chancey echoing scenes with the other, inversions, intersections—fun stuff! Plus, the events occur on a Friday night, and both halves play off of the climactic Friday night scenes in TS:MI. Will Mike "pull a James" on Collette, perhaps outdoing him by sealing the deal? Will Jennifer pull—well, "a Jennifer"—on Peter, repeating and surpassing her sexual breakout with James (this time, with despair, shame and guilt supplying the heat in place of grief and lust)?

There are a few other nods to TS:MI in this chapter. Mike and Collette reading Harry Potter to the kids, with Collette swooning over Mike's performance—just like James and Jennifer at the hospital. Collette thinking "God, this man can light me up with a smile!"—remember Jennifer and James at the gym, anyone? (Perhaps not, but even if only Austin "got" that one, I'd be happy.)

I was also having a lot of fun with Collette and Peter, but I knew that going into Chapter Ten, I had to reduce the players to Mike, Jennifer, and Gayle. So, Chapter Nine fully resolves Collette's and Peter's arcs.

I would like to put in a good word for Collette. She starts in a bad place and ends up in a better place, mostly through her own efforts, and she helps others along the way. I think if there was anything I did well in the story, it was her character. I wish I had written a story just about her, and I fear she was "wasted" on a story principally about other characters.

But from the time of my very first outline, Collette was crucial to the story of the Chanceys. Through her, I played with some of the stereotypes and conventions of the LW genre—always the secret agenda of the project. You've seen the "intervening woman" in LW stories dozens of times; she rides in, sometimes almost immediately, to take up with the cuckolded husband. She's often younger, usually more sexually adventurous/expressive/giving, and always more trustworthy than the cheating wife. She precipitates (or enforces) a divorce and heals the now ex-husband, who by living well has his best revenge.

It makes for a very happy ending, but is it realistic? Realistic or not, is it overused? Same question with respect to the "revenge fuck"—you know, the meaningless hook-up that evens the score, precipitating a reconciliation (and, to some readers, making it more acceptable).

In keeping with my aim of invoking but tweaking LW staples, I came up with Collette. She appears for most of the story to be a candidate for the "intervening woman" or "revenge fuck" role, but in Chapter Nine she turns downs the first role, and Mike turns her down for the second.

Turning Collette down is essential to Mike's story arc. He comes close to "playing" her, adopting James' misogyny and Peter's selfishness; but hurt as Mike is, he finds that he'd rather remain "the fucking boy scout" that he's always been. He also realizes that he doesn't have the same feelings for Collette that he's had for Jennifer, and that he needs to resolve those feelings.

So despite the opportunity (and great temptation), Mike backs off. Yet his experience with Collette eases some of his insecurity, putting him in a psychological and emotional place where he can reconsider Jennifer. Indeed, having witnessed Collette's transformation, he is forced to consider that Jennifer may deserve a second chance (though at this point, he's unsure what she would make of one). Mike's dialogue and thoughts, while he has coffee with Collette, foreshadow some of the issues and themes that Jennifer and he will face in Chapter Ten.

It was very enjoyable to write many scenes from Collette's point of view. She makes great strides in Chapter Nine, completing her rehabilitation from loose, drunk slut in Chapter One and drunk, inattentive mother in Chapter Four. By resisting, as much as she can, the impulse to seduce/submit to Mike and become a nail in his family's coffin, she makes it possible for Mike to resist seducing her, thereby preserving his virtue. She then plays a pivotal role in assisting Jennifer's redemption, in a scene that plays off of the scene in Chapter Four in which Mike had been the catalyst for Collette's journey of redemption.

This was interesting stuff to write. However, I know that tabooists were disappointed that Mike didn't nail Collette. I'm sorry, folks, truly; but at some point, some faction had to lose! And believe me, I'm disappointed too that Collette didn't get it on. 

I hope the tabooists at least can appreciate how long I kept them in the game. Until the moment Jennifer discovered Mike sleeping in Bobby's room, it was up for grabs! You are all very welcome to disregard the actual outcome and imagine how the seduction scene in the kitchen might otherwise have progressed.

Jennifer's half of Chapter Nine was also interesting and fun to write, but in different ways. Instead of sweet Collette's point of view, I got to go slumming in Peter's villainy again. In fact, all of Jennifer's scenes at Peter's house, except the last one, are written from his point of view. I found that necessary to keep everyone guessing and build up to the surprise in the office scene.

It also allowed me to complete Peter's arc. It's a downward arc, but redeeming Peter—well, that would have been a stretch. So instead, I had him go off the deep end, fully embracing his selfish, lustful, power-mad essence. Everything he'd fought and endured (or thought he was fighting and enduring) so long and hard for—Jennifer's love and respect, a relationship with her—he now laughs at. Instead, he desires only one night of controlling her, defiling her, reducing her to his stereotypical female.

This made his come-uppance all the more fun. Perhaps his take-down by Jennifer was a bit much, but in a story spun off of TS:MI, I'd say anything could happen. Indeed, her attack on Peter in my story was different only in degree from her kiss-off (shirt-off?) at the end of TS:MI; it wasn't a break from character so much as an escalation of character.

Several other factors drove me to it. First, the fun of writing a beat-down scene. Second, the poor alternatives—having Jennifer browbeat Peter into submission yet again, or having her steal the video and run away, just didn't feel like much of a payoff. Like many readers, I wanted Peter to get clobbered for all he'd done.

Third, I loved the idea of Jennifer—not Mike—being the one to clobber him. I wanted a change from the usual story in which the husband does the clobbering. Plus, Peter was Jennifer's enemy more than Mike's, and I thought his defeat should properly be at her hands.

Fourth, and most important: I felt Jennifer needed to step up. Raise her game. Show some qualities that might earn her another chance with Mike, in his eyes and in the readers'. She'd handled Peter before, but this was a more dangerous Peter. She'd bravely gone to his house planning to try for a peaceful outcome, but to her credit—and as a sign of her increasing maturity and humility—she quickly realized that it wasn't going to happen. It was fight or fuck, so she conned him, preparing for the former. After finding out that Mike was with Collette, she might have given up and surrendered to the latter, as a way of punishing herself—but she still chose to fight.

Let me apologize, though, to you tabooists who wanted to see Peter nail Jennifer. I hope you can tell, from how I wrote all of Peter's scenes in Act III, that I wasn't against the idea in the abstract; it just wasn't the sensible outcome, given everything else I'd written and the respect I was trying to show for TS:MI. I'm sorry if I got your hopes up, but it was necessary to keep the conventionalists in suspense and keep you from bailing! As I said about Mike and Collette's storyline, I hope you can appreciate how long I kept the possibilities open. You are very, very welcome to disregard the actual outcome of Jennifer's night with Peter and imagine how, from the scene at the wine bar, things might have progressed differently.

Speaking of that scene, it went through several re-writes. My editor, CopperSkink, should be commended for helping (forcing) me to refine it. It could have been cheesy, but with his suggestions, I think it ended up being quite menacing or erotic, depending upon your point of view. 

As for that other LW civil war—divorce versus reconciliation—well, the final battle in my story was just around the corner. Enter Gayle Seymour, after missing Chapter Eight. I always knew the final act would unfold in her office. Note the Apocalypse Now theme and foreshadowing in the beginning of Chapter Four, Gayle giving her home phone number to Jennifer in Chapter Six, and the foreshadowing in Gayle's scene in Chapter Seven.

I hope the scene at Gayle's office building at the end of Chapter Nine—told from her perspective—was both a "look who's back!" and a "this is really going to be the end, isn't it?" moment. I tried to ratchet up the suspense and end the chapter with a vivid, foreboding note. However, I fear that little scenes like that one tend to get lost in the shuffle.

READER REACTION—PART III

Chapter Seven

I mentioned a train wreck earlier. This was it.

Perhaps the lack of comments on the "meta" aspects of Chapters Four and Six should have alerted me that Chapter Seven wasn't going to work. As discussed above, that chapter was meant to provoke reflection and maybe even some sparring between readers over some of the tensions in the genre. It succeeded in provoking people, but not in the way I'd intended.

Tabooists loved it, but others hated it, and they had the majority. That would have been fine with me if the typical comment had been something like (I'm making this up):

Felt sickened by Mike's and Jennifer's nightmares and Peter's scene. Don't like be sickened, but I suspect that's what you were going for, and it worked. But please don't let any of these dreams or imaginings come true!

Instead, the typical comment was:

You suck. How could you post this crap after what you had going? Eat your crap and die!

I made that one up too—I can't bring myself to read the actual comments on Chapter Seven again—but I remember comments very much like it, and some emails, too. Like this actual email: 

How could you do 6 fine chapters and do so bad at 7. Your first 6 were excellent, 7 is a nightmare.

Actually, it literally was about nightmares, but...I get your drift. And I probably could have endured such comments if one person—just one person—had "gotten" the chapter's agenda and revealed it to everyone else. But no one got it. Or, if some got it, they didn't see any value in it.

In the immortal words of David St. Hubbins of Spinal Tap, "It's a fine line between clever and stupid." I guess I crossed the line. Or maybe I was just too subtle? I did drop hints, folks. The tag line for the chapter was "Dreams and nightmares—which are which?" My introduction added, "[It] should be noted that one man's dream may be another man's nightmare; one woman's nightmare may be another woman's dream; and the line between "reality" and "fantasy" is not always clear..."

Whether the secret agenda was too secret—or just too stupid—the bottom line is, it didn't work. That left some long, occasionally over-the-top sex scenes that disturbed conventionalists (as I'd intended) but with no apparent purpose. Cue jeers and low votes!

In this revision, I've dramatically cut the sexual content in Mike's, Jennifer's, and Gayle's scenes. Hopefully that, plus posting Chapter Seven as part of a larger installment, will improve reactions. If this is your first time reading the story, you may wonder how I could have expected those scenes (now that they're so short) to serve my secret agenda. And tabooists may wonder, "What happened to the good stuff?"

Chapter Eight

This chapter made more people happy, but like Chapter Seven, it suffered from standing alone. It appears some readers were hoping this chapter would conclude the story, even though I'd said at the end of Chapter Five that the story had five more chapters to go:

I'm outta here. I'm tired of waiting for the story to do something, to show any signs of resolution...It just doesn't matter anymore. bye.

Also, I was so successful in dangling the possibility of infidelity (Jennifer with Peter, Mike with Collette) that some conventionalists started calling for my head:

Lemme get this straight -She's going to fuck around with another guy in order to get the tape proving she didn't fuck around with the other guy. So even if she proves she didn't fuck around, she still fucked around. Kinda funny when you think about it, but hopefully it won't take eight more chapters to find out.

Although I think your writing is excellent, this story is getting too many twists and turns to keep the characters interesting. Both the main characters are weak and silly with their behaviors. And if they continue to go out and screw the others in the story, then they're too stupid to remain married.

[W]hat I guess I didn't like at the end of this chapters "cliff hanger" was how you ended the story was to give the reader the impression she's willing to cheat on her husband a second time to save her marriage hoping again that he doesn't find out about this time as well. While Jennifer screwed up, you changed her from level headed to scatterbrained. She going to Peter's house while knowing not only he expect sex, but she's setting up the stage to give it to him. She's dressed the way he asked and got her soon to be ex to watch their son overnight. If this was resolved instead of being a day by day posting I probably would think different, but you set it up and left it this way for us to believe this is what she's going to do hoping she doesn't get caught like what happened last time. Again another secret cheat on her husband.

Good so far Your epic story is going well so far, I hope you don't screw it up by whoring Jennifer out to Peter!! I think she still have a chance for redemption!!! After all, anyone can make a mistake!!

Loved it. Great story so far but if she does it with the jerk that got her in this mess then you lose everything you built into the woman. Great writing...

I guess I really don't understand what she is doing. Does she love Mike or not, does she want to be married or not, why is she going to Peter? I can't decide if she is a slut or a hero, Peter is a shit, so why is she going, is there a dark side to her as well.

But while conventionalists were panicking, tabooists were drooling:

Love the turn this is taking, the darker more secret Jennifer being unwrapped, discovered or maybe rediscovered, by us and by herself. Also love the character development, again, especially Jennifer's. She is so beautifully conflicted, such a sensual being, a prisoner of her needs, which up till now have only been hinted at. Three men all feeding different needs, which needs seem to be evolving in their position of importance. Can't wait to see where this is going. Another chapter please! Wow The last section of Part 7 was really hot when Peter was fantasizing of dominating Jen sexually. Jen is such a sweet, lovely wife, the thought of her being dominated is wicked good. Now it might actually happen?! That would be fantastic. I'm also really hoping Mike and Collette get it on... I'm a big fan of blondes... and he deserves some action, being that his wife is getting her own.

Two Thumbs Up Now we are entering the real dark side of the story... the sexuality depravity of two people thirsty for intimacy. Jennifer is so hot, and you hinted at her desire to be sexually dominated by the person she would least want it from, which makes it that much more taboo and intriguing. She has been such on edge lately and so stressed out... I think a good fucking is what she needs. You left us hanging! I can't wait for the next chapter...

Brilliant Chapter - The best and sexiest chapter yet. Resolution seeming to be on the horizon for some of our actors? Mike and Collette? Maybe...they're both basically decent people who've been hurt and are showing strength by overcoming their demons...But the shadows lurking under all those layers of decency and sweetness in Jennifer, the unspoken needs hidden even from herself, perhaps a need to punish herself for her sister having been taken rather than herself? And Peter, loathsome and manipulative? Will she find her true self with him as her Master? Will he be the one to "punish" her? Will he be her punishment? These two have even more heat potential than her and James. But no matter what the outcome this story, and your interpretation of it, has been great reading.

Your story is getting really good. I can't wait for the next chapter. I feel like I have a crush on Jennifer... she's hot, sexy, loves to have sex... and now it appears she's giving into her innermost sexual cravings. I got bored with her sex with Mike because sex b/w a husband and wife is a normal everyday thing and it lacking that flare. But now... Jennifer starting to step outside the box is a huge turn-on.

I think Peter should give Jennifer the spanking she needs for being a bad girl. Bending her over his lap, lifting her skirt - seeing her without panties on - and giving her a good spanking, while she takes the first step towards her decent to the dark side of lust. Meanwhile, Mike has a naughty sleepover with Collette and finds out if the carpet matches the drapes. Keep up the good work.

Other readers, while not in favor of Mike and Jennifer actually screwing around outside their (deteriorating) marriage, seemed to be enjoying the suspense:

I'll keep reading, because I'm curious who gets popped first, Jennifer by Peter or Mike by Collette. Maybe neither, but it's going to be interesting finding out.

Exciting. You certainly explore all the options. I think this is a compelling tale. Look forward to moving forward again.

I really love to hate this story it just is so scary for the people in it. Please save them!

Congrats on writing a fine story. am a bit nervous how it might end, but that means you made me care. However it end, I want to thank you and I hope you continue to write.

I feel sorry for Jennifer because of all the poor choices she has made. It's because of that concern for both parties - Mike and Jennifer - that I continue to read. I expect the ending will be quite profound.

I am compelled to say that you have me, for one reader, searching the "New" stories every day looking to find out what happens next with the Chanceys. I think that is one clear mark of a good writer: that people want to read, and continue to read.

Can't wait for chapter nine. This is a great story and you are a very interesting writer with a unique voice. I am breathlessly awaiting chapter 9....I'm completely hooked and so hoping for Jennifer to get out of this in one piece.