76 comments/ 96297 views/ 10 favorites Bad Karma in Cancun By: DREMAN Chapter One: It was a Thursday night in February. My wife and I were in Cancun having been there only a few hours since our arrival that afternoon. We were drinking and dancing at a nightspot, enjoying the beginning of a short but free vacation provided by my company. To my dismay, I looked up and saw a guy from our Atlanta offices walk through the nightclub door. I knew him but I didn't work directly with him because I was located in the Chattanooga offices. However, we had met this guy at a company gathering in Atlanta two months before and I particularly remembered him because he had asked my wife to dance with him several times at that event. I wouldn't have minded, but he occupied her time so much that I had to insist on having the last dance with my wife that night. After he entered, he went to the bar and ordered a drink. Frankly, I was hoping he wouldn't notice us or try to join us because I didn't care for him and I didn't want to discuss business while we were on vacation. However, it wasn't long before he spotted us and came over. "What are you two doing down here," he asked. "I might ask the same of you, Darrell," I responded. "And I see you're with my favorite dance partner," he said. "Hello again, Lorene." "Hello," my wife replied. "Why don't you join us." I was incensed by her quickness to invite him to our table. Without hesitation, he pulled up a chair on the other side of my wife. During our conversation, Darrell informed me that he had won his trip from our company and he had chosen to come to Cancun. As he talked, I could tell that he was very smooth and self-assured. Lorene listened to him with her eyes riveted to his. At one point I commented that it seemed remarkable that we both had won trips and that we both chose to come to Cancun at the same time. After all, there were several possible destinations and the dates were also available as choices. Lorene appeared to be uncomfortable with my remark, but Darrell just brushed aside my comments and continued to tell Lorene how good it was to see her again. He then asked her if she would like to dance, and she immediately got up and left with him without asking me if it was okay. That in itself was also rather strange. If nothing else, Lorene had always been polite and very politically correct, and she had always asked me if it would be okay before. I must tell you at this point that Darrell is single, a big guy, and I mean big. His 6'8" frame dwarfed my wife, and his hands looked like something that should be hanging on a meat hook in a locker somewhere. I, on the other hand, am only 5'11" and weigh about half of what he weighs. Lorene is average height at 5'3" and her red hair is cut short. I had always joked that we were a perfect fit. By contrast, she looked so out-of-place with Darrell that I had to smile. I shouldn't have. We talked and drank for the next couple of hours, during which Darrell danced with Lorene several times. I was beginning to resent sitting alone at the table, while my wife was snuggled up to a big guy on the dance floor. Besides, I suspected that they were being far too cozy when I couldn't see them. Each time they returned to the table, Lorene was all giggly and acting like a schoolgirl on her first date. Finally, I decided that I should be dancing with Lorene, too, so I invited her to dance with me. We left Darrell to watch our fresh drinks and she took my hand and followed me to the dance floor. It was a slow number so I held her closely and mentioned the coincidence of meeting up with Darrell, so far from home in such a remote place. She seemed irritated that I had brought it up again, and commented that it was just a fluke. When we finished the dance, I noticed that Darrell had bought another round for all of us. I finished the one I had left, then moved on to drink the one Darrell had bought. As I was drinking it I began to feel unusual in a sickening sort of way. I can hold my liquor up to a point but this didn't feel the same as being drunk. I commented on how I felt and told them that I thought I had gotten hold of some rotten booze. Then I told them that I needed to head for our room before I puked my guts out. Lorene got up to help me and Darrell said, "Here, let me help, Lorene. I'm more able to handle him than you, just in case he passes out." Putting his arm around my shoulder and his hand under my left arm, Darrell helped me to the elevator and then to our room. He walked me inside and I told him I wanted to sit in one of the chairs in our hotel sitting room to get my bearings. He deposited me in a chair and then just stood there. Before I could say, "Thanks, Darrell, now go away," Lorene offered him a nightcap and he accepted. There she went again ... entertaining someone I didn't care for. I sat there, getting more groggy by the minute, looking on as they both sipped their drinks, made unintelligible small talk and glanced at me from time to time. I could not understand all that they were saying and it seemed like they were going on forever. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I didn't want to go to sleep with Darrell in the room, so I sat there with my eyes either closed or at half-mast. After a while, they both stood up. I thought Darrell was leaving. Instead, he walked toward my wife and took her in his arms and hugged her. I tried to focus on the sight before me and, at first, it seemed that Lorene didn't respond, but then Lorene's arms went around his neck and he bent down to kiss her. I was stunned but could not say or do anything. I knew something wasn't right with what I was seeing through my blurred, off-again-on-again vision but I could not physically or verbally respond to my own thoughts. Darrell was saying something to her and then they looked at me. Suddenly Lorene began to walk Darrell toward the bedroom. I tried to move but I couldn't, so I sat there helplessly as they left the room I was in. All I could do was ask myself, "What the hell is going on? Why is my wife leading him to our bedroom? What's the matter with me?" I knew enough to know that I needed to do something, but I could not. With those final thoughts, I passed out completely. Hours later, I awakened. Still feeling awkward and groggy, I managed to get out of the chair. The lights in the sitting room were turned off, but there was a small lamp on in the bedroom. It took me a few minutes to maneuver my feet and my body over to the bed, but when I got there I saw Lorene sleeping naked and alone. I could tell that she had not been alone long, however, because when I sat on the bed I found that my side was still warm and damp. I was having difficulty sorting out what I was seeing and feeling, and what I was trying to remember that I had seen last night before I had passed out. As I sat there, Lorene was sleeping so soundly that she was snoring. She was totally unaware of my presence. Still feeling the effects of my hangover, I simply lay down on my back, fully clothed, and succumbed to my desire to sleep again. Around 1:30 PM Friday, I awakened to find that I was alone. I went to the kitchenette and got a big drink to wash the cotton out of my mouth. Then I headed for the shower. The cold water helped to clear my head a bit, but I knew I needed something stronger. Once I began to think more clearly, I realized that Lorene must be with Darrell, so I called the front desk and asked them to connect me to his room. "Thank you," the operator said, and she connected me. Darrell answered and I said, "Put my wife on the phone." "Why do you think she is here," he asked? "Don't play stupid with me, Darrell. You spent most of the night here. She doesn't know anyone on Cancun, so where else would she go this morning after she left here?" There was an extended pause, and then Lorene said, "Yes?" "What the hell is going on, Lorene?" "I'll be down in a little while. We'll talk about it then," she responded. "For your information, this vacation is over, Lorene. Get your whoring ass down here and start packing your bags. We are leaving on the first flight out of here," I told her, and I hung up the phone without giving her a chance to respond. I immediately got on the telephone and switched our tickets for a First Class flight back home. We were to leave at 8:13 PM that evening, and we would not arrive until the next afternoon. I got all my stuff packed and set my bags by the door in about 15 minutes, but Lorene didn't show up for another 45 minutes. When she did show, I could tell that she had either been wrestling or she had not hung up her clothing during her time with Darrell. Her blouse was quite a mess, and the crotch of her shorts looked damp. "Look at you," I yelled, and I ranted and raved, as much as my headache would allow. She pretty much ignored me and then she excused herself, telling me that she needed to shower and get ready to leave. I decided to go to the restaurant, so I left and went down alone. I was glad she didn't come because the whole time would have been unpleasant for both of us. I sat in the restaurant for over an hour eating and trying to sort out what I was going through. I was still was so stunned by it all that I honestly did not know how to handle what I knew had happened. All I saw was the kiss and the disheveled bed, and that's not enough evidence to dump a wife. After eating, and drinking almost a whole pot of coffee, I decided I didn't want to be around Lorene until we had to leave for the airport. I had a couple of hours to kill before we left, so I decided to take a walk through the island shops along the beach to kill time while I was trying to clear my head even more. I still felt like crap and I knew it would be some time before I felt normal again. All I could assume was that I had been drugged or had drunk some bad liquor because I'd never felt anything like this before. Whatever it was that hit me had reduced my capacity to function last night to zero. All too quickly, it was time to go back to the room, settle my account at the hotel, call a cab and get to the airport. I really didn't want to face Lorene again. As I walked down the hallway to our room, I felt the foreboding sense that my troubles were not over. I inserted my key in the door, heard the click, and opened it. There were all our suitcases stacked by the door, ready to go. I called to Lorene and told her that we needed to get everything ready for the service people to take to the cab. No one responded, but I heard something and walked toward the bedroom to find out what it was. There before me was my wife on her hands and knees with Darrell plowing into her from behind. Both of them looked at me as if I was totally unimportant to them. Seconds later Darrell finished but he held himself in her for a while longer. In the meantime I was yelling at him, telling him to get the hell out and leave my wife alone. He simply said, "Too late, my friend." as he zipped his pants, pushed me out of the way and walked to the door. I turned to Lorene and said, "Clean up, slut, and get your ass out to the cab in 15 minutes. I will send up the Bellhop for our luggage. Try to restrain yourself and don't screw him when he shows up." She never responded as she pulled up her panties and straightened her skirt. I settled the hotel charges, called a cab, and told the Bellhop to get our luggage to the cab. After I tipped him, we got into the cab. The ride to the airport was quiet except for the jabbering islander who finally asked us if we enjoyed ourselves. I responded, "One of us did." And that was all that either of us said from that point on. Lorene sat looking out the window on her side for the entire trip. I thought I detected sadness in her eyes, but I was still fuming inside and didn't care that she might be sad about leaving her lover so soon. Chapter Two: We arrived in Chattanooga on Saturday afternoon. The shuttle bus took us directly to our home from the Nashville airport. It was uncomfortable around our house during our first few days. I had no desire to talk to her, touch her, or to kiss her as I left for work. It was difficult to look at her without becoming angry. Pretending that things were getting back to normal wasn't working. So many pieces of the puzzle did not fit. I had thought that our married life had been well above the normal. We were happy, wealthy, excited about the future and looking forward to raising our son. She was a wonderful homemaker and mother, and our friends were some of the most influencial people in Chattanooga. We had the good life and everything was moving upward. Even our sex life was seemingly perfect. What had driven her to do what she did in Cancun? As I was mulling over our lives together, I remembered a time when I had mentioned a fantasy about seeing her with another man. Surely that wasn't what provoked what happened. That was years ago, and we had not discussed it since because she had been so repulsed by it. No, that surely isn't why she did it. However, as I dwelled on happenings of the last week, my sense of logic kept telling me that it was not coincidental that the three of us showed up in Cancun at the same time. To me it was as unlikely as winning the lottery. It had to have been planned, but how, and when? I knew she had made no trips to Atlanta in the last couple of months, so I decided to check our telephone bills. Lorene has always been the one who pays all our household bills and she pays everything on line, so I used my office PC to check our accounts for the most recent telephone calls. That wasn't difficult since we use the same cellular company for both of our cellulars. We also use the same password on everything around home, including everything from our computers to our automatic garage door keypad. I found that there was one call for Atlanta Information on her personal cell phone bill, and several lengthy calls to what I later determined to be his office in Atlanta. These all occurred during the month of January. To me, that confirmed that they had planned to meet during our vacation trip. Then, to my chagrin, I also found that she had called him a couple of times since returning from Cancun. Now I was convinced that it was no longer a one-time fling, and that she was planning another get-together. Another item of concern was whether or not Darrell had actually won the trip, as he said, or had he just taken personal time off to meet us at Lorene's request? It was a moot point really, but I wanted to check it out anyhow. With the number of contacts I had in the Atlanta HR office, one of which owed me a favor, it did not take any time at all to learn that he had indeed taken vacation days to cover the time we were there. So that verified that he didn't actually win the trip. That was the last question that I wanted to clear up for now. I had many others but they would be discussed later. As I reflected on Lorene's betrayal, I was still stunned by her brazenness and callous disregard for me and my feelings. That really ate at my gut. If Lorene intended for it to happen, I wonder if I could have dissuaded her. Remembering her actions on our last day, when she made me wait while Darrell emptied himself into her one more time before her trip home, I doubted that I could have stopped her. She was obviously more concerned with pleasing him than me. Then there was Darrell. Had I been physically able to even try to stop them I may have had to fight with Darrell, who was far superior to me in weight and strength. It would have been no contest. Some may say that I lost the battle by default, but I'm beginning to think that I may be lucky to still be alive. I finally determined that I would waste my time being ashamed of the past. My primary thoughts now are of settling the score somehow with Lorene. After all, the fact that she initiated the telephone calls to Atlanta during the month of January convinced me that she was the one who perpetrated this humiliation upon me. Additionally, she had made me a nonentity during the time she spent with Darrell, and I intended to make her regret that. Where would I start the wheels of revenge rolling? Why at home, of course. I had to maintain a façade that evrything was okay. After all, friends would be asking questions about our trip and on my part I wanted to present a united front and work hard to hide my bitterness toward her, especially in front of others. That would serve me well later on. I wondered how Lorene would handle their questions about our trip since she had spent the majority of her time in bed with Darrell! Next, I needed a plan. A simple divorce would not give me enough satisfaction at this point, so I asked myself, "To what extremes do I want to go? Do I want to see her dead, or just see her suffer?" It took me a full day of debating with myself to decide which because I truly would not have minded seeing her dead. In the end, however, I decided that making her suffer would be the better choice. During the next few days I tried to make life more livable in our house. During the day I would leave for work early and come home late, as I had always done. For the weekend, I planned and took her out to dinner with friends on Saturday night. Conversing was not easy for her and I but we enjoyed a wonderful dinner and conversation together with our friends, and they served as a buffer between Lorene and me. I had decided to have a talk with Lorene that evening at home. I planned to lay it all out for her. So, after we returned home from the dinner, I stopped her from going straight to the bedroom and asked if we could talk. She agreed, but her body language told me that she dreaded it. I paid the babysitter and she left. Lorene then sat on the love seat, took off her shoes and curled her legs under her. I poured two glasses of wine, handed one to her and sat down in a chair opposite the love seat. "So, what's on your mind?" she asked, as if she already knew the answer. The way she asked her question irritated me, but I calmly stated, "Let me leave you with no doubts, Lorene, I now know that you and Darrell planned to meet at the resort, and I know that you initiated the calls to make it happen. Also, I know that you have called him since our return. Now that I've exposed a few of your secrets, ...." "You're spying on me now?" she interjected sarcastically. I didn't even bother to respond and continued calmly. "I just have a few questions to ask you, if you don't mind. I know things have been very uncomfortable this week and I haven't handled them as well as you may have thought I should." "Remember," she said rather defiantly, "it was originally your idea." "What are you talking about," I shot back. She said rather spitefully, "You're the one who said you wanted to see me with another man." "You must be kidding me!" I exclaimed. "You acted upon that fantasy from years ago, a fantasy that repulsed you then?" "Are you saying you didn't mean it," she asked? "Okay. I accept that I shared a fantasy a long time ago, but you and I both know that it was merely a fantasy. However, if you remotely thought that I was serious, why did you choose to hide your plan from me? Why didn't you discuss it with me before we went to Cancun?" "Because I wondered if you would still allow me to do it," she said softly. "So, you admit that you had seriously questioned how I felt about it, but you did it anyhow with total disregard for my feelings!" Looking down at her wine glass she responded, "I thought if you didn't feel that way that you would stop us, but I didn't know Darrell was going to do what he did to incapacitate you." "Yeah, that's another thing I want to know," I responded. What did Darrell do to me?"" "I'm really sorry about what that did to you, but he said that he had to put something in your drink to make you more relaxed. He said you would be all right, so I shouldn't worry," she told me. Bad Karma in Cancun "And you believed him? Why the hell would you allow him to drug me to keep me from interfering," I asked incredulously. "You really must have wanted him bad to agree to allow him to do that to me. It could have killed me. Furthermore, even if I had been able, what would you and Darrell have done had I tried to intervene?" I asked her. Meekly she said, almost in a whisper, "I never thought that far ahead, but I don't think you could have done much. He is too big." I finished my glass of wine, rose from my chair and stood up over her. She looked at me with a concerned look on her face. "Lorene, I cannot stop you and Darrell from seeing each other. What's done is done. I have a reputation and I don't want it ruined by your slutty ways. Furthermore, we have a son to protect." "You mean you're giving me your approval to see him again?" she asked incredulously. "I didn't give my approval last time but did that stop you? No, and I am still not giving you permission. I said that I couldn't stop you. You'll find a way if you want to." "It is important," I continued, "that you know that I am damned mad and deeply hurt by the disrespectful way in which you went behind my back with your plans. Your blatant disregard for my well-being is unforgivable. However, we'll go on somehow. That is, unless your future plans include leaving your son and me for Darrell. If they do, then tell me now so we can end this and move on." "Oh no! I'm not leaving you or our son for anyone right now. As I said, I was into him so much that he consumed me for the time being, but I do not plan to leave you for him. It was a couple of days in Cancun, that's all." "Yes, I noticed that he consumed you," I said, "and he did so literally. But I also know that you've also called him since. If it's over, why the telephone calls?" "I only returned his call the first time. He called me to see if I was okay, and I returned his call. But, since you and I weren't talking much around here, I called him again because I needed someone to talk to." "Well, you have many friends you could have called, but of course you couldn't discuss the fact that you spent your time in Cancun screwing Darrell, now could you! Doesn't that make you feel ashamed? You must hide that part of your life from them, but you carried it out blatantly in front of me, your drugged husband! Be that as it may, I have nothing more to say for now. Family is important to me, so we will go on with our lives, such as they have become, but a lot of things have changed ... at least, from my perspective." "What do you mean by that?" she asked. "Well, for one thing, your actions have made me feel completely inadequate sexually," I lied, "especially after being in the same room with you and him. For another, you humiliated me by having that 'one more time' before we left. He was marking you, and you knew it and agreed to it. Consequently, you carried his fresh seed home out of total disrespect for my feelings. I cannot get that image out of my mind. In fact, for now I don't want to touch you. I'm sorry. Maybe one day that will change," I said softly with my head bowed, looking down at the floor. I raised my eyes enough to see tears in her eyes as she said, "You are not inadequate, you are just fine, and I do still love you, no matter what you think." I didn't respond, except to say, "Good night, Lorene." I felt that I had said enough for now. I could tell that she was conflicted, but I had planted the seeds I wanted to plant to gain a measure of sympathy, so I quietly left the room and went to bed. She didn't come to bed for quite a while, and she didn't try to get close to me when she did. On Monday I made several telephone calls. The first one was to my lawyer. I told him that I wanted a complete up-to-date assessment of our finances. He said he would drop by once he had determined what I was worth and where all the money was located. My second call was to a college friend of mine. He had been a damned good PI for a lot of years. He was a few years older than I, so we were not classmates, but we had several classes together. I wanted to better understand something that I had read in the Chattanooga newspaper. He answered the phone at his private security agency and we talked for a while, catching up on what had happened in our lives over the past couple of years. He brought me up to date on his heart problems, about his road to recovery and his new business venture as a PI. I told him how my job was going and that I had received several promotions in the last few years. I also mentioned Lorene and our son, but I didn't share anything about Lorene's tryst. I let him believe that she and I were still okay. We talked about other things in general, and, after a while, I casually turned the conversation to how unsafe our city had become. "For example," I said, "I recently read a sad news story about a woman who was a government employee, who disappeared for several years and was finally found in a European brothel as a drugged-out prostitute. It turned out that she had been kidnapped here in the U.S. while loading stuff into her SUV outside a grocery store. I cannot even imagine how something like that can happen in broad daylight!" Mack commented that it happens regularly on a daily basis to people of all ages. He added that he was aware of the news story I had mentioned and that one of his contacts on the inside had related to him the circumstances surrounding the incident. It seems that she was an attractive lady from a fine family. She was in her thirties at the time of her abduction and, as she testified later, she was heavily drugged and forced to submit to all kinds of sexual acts by her captors. It did not take long for her to become so addicted to the drugs that she willingly submitted to sex for a fix. That was how her captors controlled her. As with most druggies, she lost all concern for her family and friends as was spirited out of the country under an assumed name to a location in Holland where she continued her activities as a prostitute. She was arrested for some violation and, before she could be bailed out, it was discovered that her fingerprints matched that of a government employee who was abducted in the U.S. several years ago. Consequently, the police held her. She was questioned and she reluctantly admitted who she was. The Dutch authorities contacted her family and she was sent back to the U.S. At the time the news article was written, she was still being detoxed and working through reestablishing her relationship with her family. Her husband had gotten a divorce and moved on, not knowing what his wife's status was, but he permitted her to see her children. Unknown to Mack, a plan was formulating in my mind. I ended our conversation telling Mack how much I appreciated talking with him again and I wished him and his family well. We agreed that we'd have to get together, knowing we probably never would, but at least we made the gesture before we hung up. My load at work had not lessened and I had felt unprepared for a couple of the staff meetings during our first week back. I knew that I needed to keep my focus. I couldn't let anyone know what I was planning while I was at work and I couldn't let down on my performance on the job or draw attention to myself. So, I poured my entire being into managing whatever project I was assigned in order to stay ahead of the game and still have time for formulating and carrying out my plan. I felt good that it was only Monday and I had already decided what I wanted to happen. How I was going to pull it off hadn't solidified yet, but I had an idea it was beginning to fall into place. A couple of my business friends had used the services of a local escort for some of their clients, so I called one of them to get a telephone number. He called me a "Dog," and said he never thought I would resort to that. I assured him that things were okay between Lorene and me, and I added that I was just getting information. I had no intention of sleeping with her. He said that seemed strange but didn't ask any more questions. Before we hung up I jokingly reminded him that I would continue to keep from his wife the fact that he had a call girl's phone number in his files if he would not tell anyone about this call. He quickly agreed that he would not, so I thanked him and hung up. The woman's name was Beverly. She seemed very nice on the telephone and agreed to meet me for a drink on Tuesday evening after work at a bar on the other side of town. I told her that I would pay her usual hourly rate but all I wanted was conversation. She said that was acceptable and said she would meet me at 5:30 PM. I knew where we were going was rather dangerous for a white guy who looked like he had money, but I figured everyone there would think that I was just another guy cheating on his wife. I didn't care what they thought as long as they didn't try to start anything. On Tuesday morning my lawyer called my office and asked if he could meet with me. I looked at my schedule and we agreed to meet at 1:40 PM in my office. He was there on time so I invited him in. He placed his briefcase on the conference table, opened it and pulled out some papers, spreading them out on the table. "Mind if I ask what's up?" he asked. "Oh, I have been a little insecure about my finances recently and wondered how things were working out as far as my investments are concerned," I replied. "I also like to keep a good sum of ready cash on hand in case of an emergency or in order to close a fast deal." "From the looks of things, you are in good shape financially. As my daddy used to say, 'Spend it like ya got it.'" We went over the accounts and one account in particular was of interest. It had only $68,000 in it. I figured it would cost me about twenty grand to get done what I wanted, so I asked my lawyer to cash it in and give me the cash. He seemed a little uneasy but said he would do it. I could tell he was wondering what was going on, but I never said anything. I doubt that he believed my line about needing cash on hand for an emergency, but he's my lawyer. What could he say? About 25 minutes later our meeting was over and he was on his way out the door. I was able to get back to work again and start closing out a couple of my projects. I left the office at 4:45 PM to drive to the bar where I was to meet Beverly. I did not see anyone who might be her when I arrived, so I picked a booth in the corner of the room farthest from the noise. Several drunken bikers were molesting their dance partners on the dance floor. When she arrived, I was surprised at her beauty and gracefulness. She was a pro! I rose to greet her, introduced myself and ask her to have a seat. The waitress came over and took our order for drinks, and I asked Beverly if she was hungry. "Girls in my profession are always hungry," she replied with a smile, "since we seem to have so little time to eat a decent meal." I asked the waitress to bring us a menu and we placed our orders. "Why did you choose this place? No respectable hooker, if there is such a thing, would show up here," she said laughingly. "I wanted absolute anonymity," I told her. "I have a lot of friends and acquaintances in this town, and I felt that meeting here would be safest." "I know you said you'd pay my hourly rate. I charge $200 an hour for talking. That's my basic escort fee," she said, "two hundred per hour. Other amenities are extra." "Not a problem," I assured her. "I have the cash and I'll pay you now, or later, whichever you prefer," I responded. "Let's get that part over with now, if you don't mind," she suggested, "but do it discreetly." I slipped her $400 under the table because I thought we might be here for more than an hour. "So, how can I help you," she asked? I began, "What I need from you is the name of someone who can help me do something very illegal and slightly dangerous. From what I hear, women in your profession know almost as much as law enforcement knows about those kinds of connections." "I can't really give you a name, but I do know several guys who may be able to direct you to someone who can help you, if they don't want to do it themselves," she replied. "Look, I'm not getting into something that's going to come back and bite me, am I? I have been clean up to now and I don't want any trouble with the cops." "Absolutely not! We're just having conversation and a meal together. After it's over, we never have to meet again," I assured her. "So, who are these guys and why do you think they can help me?" "Two of them are regulars with me, and I know they have connections. If anyone can direct you to people like you're looking for, they can," she confided. "Or, they may be able to do what you want done themselves." The waitress came back and refreshed our drinks as she delivered our food. We ate almost in silence and, as she had warned me, she ate like she was famished. When we had finished eating, we ordered another drink. It had only taken us about an hour to eat, but I told her to keep all I had given her. Before she left, she gave me a telephone number and told me to use her name to introduce myself to whoever answered. She told me that she would let him know I would be calling. I thanked her for her help and she left the bar. I hung back for a few minutes so no one would see us leave together. I asked the waitress to bring the bill and I paid it, and then I headed home. It was around 7:30 when I arrived home and Lorene greeted me pleasantly. I told her I had a meeting after work and had already had something to eat. That frustrated her, I could tell, but she went about putting things away without a word. I tried to ask how her day had gone but she seemed to turn a deaf ear to my question, so I left the room. I went to my home office and got on the computer to check our telephone call logs. I could find nothing to indicate that she had contacted Darrell again so I shut it off and went to the den to watch TV. Around 9:45 I said I was tired and headed for bed. I was wiped out from all I had been dealing with and needed some extra rest. On Wednesday I was in the office very early and started the day with an office staff meeting that lasted past 10:00 AM. I was anxious to make the telephone call to the number Lorene had given me, so as soon as I could clear the conference room I went to my desk. I buzzed my secretary and asked her to hold my calls and take messages. Then I dialed the number. A man answered. From the noise in the background I assumed he must be in some kind of factory. I told him that Beverly had given me his number and his response was, "Yeah. So?" "I would like to talk to you," I said, "about some business I need to have taken care of. Can we meet somewhere ... soon?" His response was simply, "The Lollipop Club at 9:30 tonight," and he hung up. I was beginning to feel a little uneasy about the whole matter, but I was still determined to make Lorene pay for her part in my humiliation. I had given her a large chunk of my life and for a short time it was as if I no longer mattered. I still couldn't fathom it all. I knocked off early in the afternoon and went home. Lorene was watching her afternoon Soap and was surprised to see me so early in the afternoon. She asked if anything was wrong and I assured her that I was just tired and wanted to get away from the office for a couple of hours. I stepped over her purse on my way up to our Master Bedroom Suite. Once inside, I closed the door and sat down to read the morning paper. My idea of peace and quiet is to read while the TV is off in the background. A few minutes after I sat down I heard a phone ring. I couldn't place the ring tone. It was not my phone ringing, or Lorene's, and it was very muffled sounding and seemed to be coming from the closet area. My first thought was that she had changed her ring tone. After all, she does like variety (no pun intended). I got up and looked in the closet for her purse, but then I realized that I had seen her purse on the downstairs landing as I came upstairs. The melodious ring tone seemed to be coming from a shoebox on the shelf of her closet. Then it stopped ringing. I looked into the first box ... nothing there but shoes. I found the phone in the second box and pulled it out. As I inspected the phone, I saw that it was new. I clicked the "Menu" icon and looked at the menu there. I scrolled down to "Missed Calls" and clicked on it. The call was from an Atlanta area code. I wanted to stomp the phone into a million pieces but I restrained myself. I highlighted the "Missed Calls" selection and listened. "Hello, Lover. I know I'm only supposed to call you at 1:30 but I thought I would call you once more before he gets home to tell you that I am still missing you and looking forward to meeting with you again. Have a good evening ... and remember. Talk to you tomorrow." Then I heard the "click" as he hung up. I put the phone back where I found it and sat down to ponder the new revelation. Lorene was still communicating with him and had bought a new phone to hide the fact from me. She had lied to me again about it only being a "couple of days in Cancun." Now I knew that it was ongoing. I was more determined than ever to make her pay now, and it had to be sooner rather than later. I didn't know how much longer I could control myself. Lorene and I ate a light dinner and had a couple of glasses of wine afterward. We talked about some rather off-the-wall stuff that she said she would like for us to do together, and one thing she wanted to do very soon for herself. She said she wanted to visit a college roommate who had recently moved to the Knoxville area. She mentioned her name, which seemed familiar, but I didn't believe she was going to Knoxville for a minute. However, not to raise suspicion, I listened and told her that it might be a good idea for her to go. She was going to drive her car since Knoxville is only a couple of hours from Chattanooga. As a matter of fact it's about the same distance from Chattanooga to Atlanta. I asked her when she was planning to go and she suggested the next week, from Friday through Sunday. That didn't give me much time. I knew I had to work fast to form my plans. I was so glad that I had discovered the new phone. It seemed that fate was working in my favor for a change. At 9:00 PM I told Lorene that I had an errand to run and I would be home around 10:30. She looked at me skeptically but said nothing, so I left the house for Lollipops. Lollipops is a strip joint. Again, it's across town so I didn't worry about being seen there, but I wondered how my contact was going to recognize me. As I walked into the place I looked around and saw no one who seemed to be looking for me, so I took a seat and ordered a drink. Five minutes later in walks Beverly on the arm of a very tough looking black guy. She pointed him in my direction and then went to the bar to order a drink, leaving us alone to talk. He sat down and said, "Okay. You talk. What's your business?" Talk about direct ... I had to gather my thoughts because I had just formulated a new plan. I told him, "I want my wife kidnapped, drugged and forced into prostitution. Either that or I want her and her lover beaten severely and left broken and battered." There. I had said it and it felt good. I had never verbalized it out loud before. "So which is it? Kidnapped or broken and battered?" "Let me tell you what's going on and you can decide. My wife is planning a trip next week. She said she is going to Knoxville to see a girlfriend, but I think she is going to Atlanta to meet her lover. If she goes to Knoxville, I want her kidnapped on her way home. You can do with her what you like after that. If she goes to Atlanta, I want her and her lover broken up badly. However, I must warn you, he is a big guy." Bad Karma in Cancun He smiled and asked, "Do I look like I'm afraid of anyone?" I told him "No. I just thought you ought to know." "When are you going to know which direction she takes ... to Knoxville or Atlanta?" "Probably not until the day she leaves, but I'm betting she goes to Atlanta. She'll take I-75 in one direction or the other," I responded. "If she turns right she'll head south. Turn left and she'll go to Knoxville. I can tail her from the house since the intersection for I-75 is only minutes from our house. Then I can let you know and you can alert your people." "This is going to cost you," he said. "I have to alert two different contacts and tell them the score, and they have to prepare to do one or the other and that preparation takes money and time." "So, how much are we talking?" He got a rather silly looking grin on his face and said, "Well, since you're such a good friend of Beverly's, it will only cost you $20,000 for each team ... non-refundable, no matter which way she turns." I was certainly glad I wasn't an enemy of Beverly's. I'd hate to think what the cost would have been if I were. He continued, "You contact Bev and give her the details on the dude, and any details you have on her Knoxville friend. Oh yeah, give her cash, too. I need it by day after tomorrow. If wifey goes to Knoxville, we'll get to her when she leaves to come back to Chattanooga. If she goes to Atlanta, her lover will lead us to her and we can do them either after they leave a bar, or we can do them in the motel. Either way, this ain't nothin' new to us. A piece o' cake. I got people in both cities on my payroll." I responded, "Okay. I can call Beverly and get the stuff to her by Saturday, but she indicated she would not like to be involved." "She'll do it for me. After all, she's getting a finder's fee." There was that silly grin again. I agreed to his terms and we parted company. He stood to go. Beverly immediately left the bar and, smiling at me, joined him as they exited the building. I still didn't know his name but I had a suspicion that he knew mine and had checked me out. I contacted my lawyer the next day. He said he had liquidated the one investment and had the check waiting for me. I drove over before noon, picked up the check and headed for my bank. When I walked in, the President of the bank was in the lobby talking with a mutual friend. We chatted for a few minutes until he asked what brought me there. I told him I needed a special favor. We excused ourselves from the other gentleman and went into his office. I told him that I knew this was out of the ordinary but it was a very private matter and I wanted him to agree to keep it under his hat. He said, "Sure, man, whatever you want." I handed him the check and told him I needed $40,000 in cash and the rest deposited in my savings account. He looked like he popped a bead of perspiration on his forehead. I told him that I had a business venture I was looking at and may need the cash as "incentive" money. He asked about the venture. I apologetically told him that it was very hush-hush and I couldn't say anymore. Further, I assured him that I knew about the policy of the bank to hold large checks for up to 5 business days but that I was asking for an exception based on my prior business dealings with his bank. He also assured me that he knew I was good for the money, and he would have the matter taken care of immediately. Thirty minutes later I walked out with the cash in my briefcase. Back at the office I looked at my watch and made another phone call. It was 1:20 PM. Lorene answered but seemed a bit agitated that I called. I asked if I'd interrupted something, knowing I was about to, and she said, "I was just finishing up lunch and doing the dishes. Nothing major." I asked, "Would you like to have a nice dinner again this Saturday night?" "Well, sure," she responded, "but can't we talk about this tonight when you get home?" "I have to make the reservation, and we have to decide where you want to go," I said. "We can do all that tonight, too," she replied. "If we don't get our reservation in now, we may not get one, Lorene," deliberately prolonging our conversation. She was curt when she responded, "You make the choice and the reservation wherever you like. I'm okay with whatever you choose. I have to go. My sink is probably overflowing." "Okay," I said, "if your dishes are more important than talking to me." In the background I could barely hear the ring tone from her new phone. She quickly said, "Bye. Talk to you tonight," and hung up. I sat back in my chair, smiled, and told myself, "I should call her every day at this time just to irritate her." I still hadn't gotten any information from Lorene about her friend in Knoxville, nor had I gathered the information on Darrell and his office address. The latter would be simple, but the info about Lorene's former roommate would have to be gotten tonight. I could not wait until tomorrow night to take her to dinner. So, I decided to call home again and switch our dinner plans to tonight instead of Saturday. The house telephone rang several times before she answered, and when she did answer all she said was, "What now?" I told her that our dinner was tonight and I just thought I should warn her. Then I hung up. As we got ready for dinner that evening she asked what brought all this on. I told her that I missed going out to dinner once in awhile and, regardless of what was going on in our so-called marriage, she was always pleasant to dine with. She managed a "Thank you," and a smile. Our regular babysitter arrived at 7:15 PM and Lorene gave her the instructions, for the umpteenth time. We went to the garage, got in my car and drove to the Outback Steak House. She said she had hoped for a more romantic place and I asked, "Why?" "You shouldn't have to ask that question," she responded. "You know I love you." Oh how I wanted to unload on her. It was all I could do to keep my hands on the steering wheel. I parked the car, walked around and opened her door. As she got out, she intentionally flashed her inner thighs and looked at me as if to ask, "Do you like what you see?" Of course I liked what I saw, but then I conjured up that vision of her and Darrell again. That cooled my jets instantly. Over the meal we talked about her trip. I learned her former roommate's name, that she was single (again), and what her address was. I asked for the friend's telephone number and Lorene told me that I could call her on her cell phone instead of her friend's home phone. That way I could reach her even when they were out, if I needed to. I wanted to ask her, "Which cell phone?" but I didn't. As I thought about it, it occurred to me that without a landline I would not know if she ever arrived at the home of her friend. Calling her cell phone would not reveal where she was, just that she had it with her, and she could be anywhere. After our meal, we went to a bar and had a couple of drinks. I was pretty well on the way to feeling very good when we decided it was time to call it an evening. On the trip home, Lorene reached over to touch my hand. I didn't' reject her touch, but I didn't respond either. I liked the feel of her soft hand and asked myself if I could really go through with my plan. I had enjoyed a few drinks and was not thinking so clearly, so I decided that I needed to sober up before I made any further decisions concerning that. At home we both undressed and went to bed. I was too intoxicated to stay awake. I made an excuse to go to the office Saturday morning. From there I called Beverly and made arrangements to meet her with the information and the money. We met at a park to make the exchange. Beverly was dressed in jeans and a frilly blouse. The high heals also looked great with the outfit. She was sitting on a bench with her oversized handbag. I walked over, asked if the other seat was taken and sat down after she assured me that it wasn't. Before I handed her the package with the money and the information she needed, I told her that I might call her again if information changed before next Friday. She agreed that it would be wise for me to do that. I laid her package on the bench seat, assured her that all the information her friend needed was in there, and then I got up to leave. She looked up and said, "It's been nice doing business with you. You are really a nice guy and I hope you find peace after this is over. Call me any time. Next time will be on me." "Thanks, we'll have to see about that," I responded. I smiled and walked away. The rest of the weekend, and the next week seemed to drag on and on and on. I had some fitful nights and some very uneasy days, but I was still determined to go through with it. On Thursday before I left work, I told my secretary that I would be a little late tomorrow morning. She made a note to hold my calls. She asked where I would be and I told her that my wife was taking a trip to Knoxville to see a former college roommate, and I would like to see her off. Of course I wasn't really going to see her off. I knew Lorene planned to leave by 9:00 AM, so I was going to leave the house a bit earlier and station myself at a site overlooking the interchange that would take her either to Knoxville or to Atlanta. I made sure I had the telephone number I needed and went home. Thursday evening Lorene prepared a nice meal with some of my favorites. I was pleased and again questioned myself concerning what was about to happen. She seemed a bit more excited about her trip. She told me that our son was going to stay with a friend and his family all weekend, and that he would even go to school on Monday from the friend's house. During the meal she went on and on about how long it had been since she had seen Jean, her college friend. She was so convincing that I was actually beginning to hope that she was going to see Jean. Whether or not she did, however, the consequences of her trip were going to be devastating, one way or another, and I was beginning to feel slightly remorseful. Then a very strange thing happened. That new phone began to ring again. Lorene jumped up and ran upstairs with a look of panic on her face. It sounded like the phone stop ringing before she got there, and I couldn't make out anything after that. She came back down and said, "It was a wrong number." I wanted to comment on the new ring tone but decided to let her explain if she wanted to. She didn't, so I didn't ask. However, it just cemented my resolve to go through with my plan. She was still trying to deceive me. It was not over between them, but it soon would be. On Friday morning our house was full of activity. Our son was packing for the weekend, and Lorene was trying to get all the loose ends tied up so that he could be ready when his ride came. I did what I could to help but I was intent on getting into position to see which way she turned. I could not miss that moment. At the appointed time, I said my goodbyes, hugged my son and told him to have a fun weekend with his friend, and left the house. As I drove out of the driveway I looked back at the house, knowing it would be lonelier without her. I mused over the situation and concluded that whatever would be had to be, and she deserved whatever that was. I was almost totally void of any feelings for her by now. As I sat in my car at the area overlooking the Interstate interchange, I was amazed at how many cars passed through there every minute. I realized that if I were not careful I might miss her car, so I focused intently. A short while later I saw her Volvo coming down the road, and I froze. The next minute would decide her fate. Without hesitation, she turned south and hit the accelerator, speeding toward Atlanta and her lover. Frankly, it was another moment of letdown for me. I don't know why I allowed myself to be drawn in. I thought to myself, "Just like Cancun, she had the chance to make the right choice and she didn't." I guess I held onto that one last fiber that she would turn north, but she was true to form once again, so I made the call to the number I had been given. "You'll find her in Atlanta," I said. "Do with them what you will." I turned off my phone and sat there. For the first time my eyes began welling up as I thought about the finality of it all. All I could say was, "What a waste. What an absolute waste." We can buy the Atlanta paper from newsstands in Chattanooga, so I made sure I picked up a copy each day while she was gone. I scanned through the pages for some special news, but nothing was there. My son returned home on Monday night and asked where his mother was. I told him I had no idea, but that she must be okay or we would have heard something. We had a pleasant evening together, played some games, ate pizza, and I even tried to call Lorene's cell phone. No one answered but the voice mail picked up, so I left her a message. On Tuesday morning at 4:57 AM the telephone at my home rang. It was a police officer from the Atlanta area. He asked who I was and I told him. He asked if I was still married to a woman named Lorene, and I said that I was. He told me his name was Officer Perry, and then he informed me that Lorene was missing. To myself I thought, "Missing! She is just supposed to be roughed up and left to suffer with her lover! Why is she missing?" I had to think fast because I was expecting a call to tell me that she was found with her lover in a motel room, all battered and bruised. What the hell had Beverly's friend done? I asked incredulously, "If she is missing, how the hell would you know that? She was supposed to be in Knoxville, Tennessee with a former college roommate. How would you know that she is missing? That doesn't make sense! You must have the wrong person in mind, or the wrong information!" "Sir," he responded, "we have her purse here, and there was a witness. His name is Darrell Bosegate. However, he was so badly beaten that he will be hospitalized for some time. He's in a coma, barely able to breathe. Your wife's abductors also shot him twice. One bullet is lodged in his spine and he is currently paralyzed from the waist down. From what we can gather, he was escorting your wife out of a local nightclub when they were attacked. Would you be willing to come to Atlanta to talk to us and help clear things up?" "Sure, I'll come. But I cannot explain why she was in Atlanta instead of Knoxville! She has never done anything like that before. How could I be that confused to not know where she was going?" "I have no idea," Officer Perry responded. "Oh, one more thing, bring us a recent photo of your wife as she looks today. Can you do that?" "Sure," I said, and we ended the call. After announcing to my company that I would be taking some time off, and explaining about what had happened to Lorene, I left for Atlanta. The Police were very gracious but nothing I told them seemed to be of any help. The only personal affects they had were in her purse, and that didn't contribute anything to their investigation. I never mentioned Darrell or Cancun. During a full day of questioning, and repeatedly going over and over our last few days before she left, I assured them that our last days together were nothing to prepare me for this. We were still in love, so I thought. I think they bought it. Afterward, they encouraged me to return home and wait for a ransom note or a call from her abductors, so I did as they said. When I arrived home, I went to the home of my friends and asked them to keep my son for a few days to see where this all went. They gladly agreed to help and even came home with me to get several outfits of clothing to last out the first week and weekend. There was no call for ransom, of course, and there was no note sent to the house, but each day I called the Atlanta Police Station and asked if they had found out anything else. They hadn't but they said Darrell was taking a turn for the worse. He couldn't breath without assistance and wasn't expected to make it to the weekend. The Police admitted that they were stumped and totally without leads, but that they were still on the case and would keep me informed when something broke. Over the next month I called so many times that they finally asked me to stop. They told me that I would get a call from them when they had something to pass on to me. They didn't call again. Finally, I could take it no longer. I went to a pay phone in the local bus stop and called Beverly's friend again. He answered and I asked him what had happened. He informed me that he took the best of both plans, roughed up the lover (though he put up quite a fight) and kidnapped the "wifey." He went on to say that I really didn't want to know what had happened to her since then but that she was too good looking and too valuable to mess up. "So," he said, "we've prepared her for a life of entertainment." I asked what he meant by that, and he said, "Let me put it this way, she's had more sex in the last month than you had with her in all the years you were married to her. She may be overly satisfied by now, but she'll keep doing it to pay for her new habit. So if you're a traveling man and a prostitute propositions you while you are abroad, look at her closely. It could very well be your ex-wife." "Oh, and by the way, just before I did her the first time I told her, 'Your husband sends his regards to you and Darrell.'" Then he said, "You're welcome. Later, man," and he hung up. Epilogue: They never found out who took Darrell out. He died from his wounds without ever regaining complete consciousness. Lorene has never been found even though the police plastered her picture everywhere throughout Atlanta and regions beyond. If she is still alive, she is probably living a life of hellish domination by drugs in a stinking brothel somewhere in the world, wondering when she can get her next fix. The Atlanta police finally shelved her file since the only info they had was one person's testimony that three black men were seen running to a dark colored van carrying a screaming woman. It didn't take long before it became a "Cold Case," filed under Unsolved Missing Persons. I was never implicated, and really never questioned after the one time. Oh yes, though I thought it would never happen, I did fall in love again and life could not be sweeter. My beautiful new wife is younger, but she is wonderful with my son and it seems that he loves her as much as he loved his biological mother, about whom he never speaks anymore. She is wonderful to him and to me, and I'm hoping we will be able to spend the rest of our days basking in our love. One thing for sure, we'll never take a vacation to Cancun. There is too much bad karma there. From now on, if another man messes with my wife, I'll .... Well, I think you know.