61 comments/ 58000 views/ 55 favorites Love Thy Enemy By: JLRemora2 This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the story's characters to dead and/or living people, and fictitious situations to real events, is purely coincidental. Some research went into attempting to present certain situations as realistically as possible, without getting nitty-gritty about it. As such, no doubt there will be issues with some of the facts. If so, remember, this story is a work of fiction. There is sex in this story, however, it's limited. The bulk of the story is more about human drama and the emotions that provoke the actions that create the drama. Even if we don't understand what drives us -most especially when we don't understand- we are drawn inexorably toward love and hate; as a moth to the flame. Any grammatical and spelling errors are completely and totally mine. Any inconsistencies are also mine. I've edited the story to the best of my ability (within a limited time). If that's not good enough then someone can apply for the thankless unpaid job of editor, and then you can take the blame, while I take the accolades. This story was begun several years ago, rather than delete it, I decided to finish it. There are ten chapters to this story. I've uploaded nine, in one file. I'll upload the last chapter (as a separate file) as soon as I've completed it. The reason I've uploaded the story in its incomplete state is to help motivate myself to completing it (I'm constantly working on several other stories, and unfortunately, I lose interest in some few stories. I'm trying to prevent that.). It's a vicious loop. I remind the readers- especially my harshest critics- I write for my own pleasure. Please keep that in mind. Although, I do appreciate constructive criticism, which I do take to heart, I simply don't have the time to reply to every message or e-mail. I do my best, but that often falls far short. You have my apologies. With all that stated, I hope you enjoy the story as much I've had writing it. Chapter One I was home, working at the computer, preparing for my employer's annual financial meeting being held the following week, when it came. Its' little innocuous melody more an annoyance than a harbinger of heart bursting pain and brain melting fury. I didn't think anything of the small pop-up informing me I had a new e-mail. I finished what I was doing before bothering with the e-mail, it was maybe an hour before I got around to opening it. It was addressed to me, by name, but it had some weird, obviously fake sender's e-mail address. The subject line had three words..."View Or Else". Or else what? They'd spam me? There was no other message, but the e-mail did have a file attached that my e-mail service identified as video. I was ready to delete the e-mail, then something stopped me. Call it a sixth sense, because right before hitting the delete button I asked myself, 'Why not look at it? Maybe it's one of my friends who'd sent a video of some hot babe they'd gone out with and screwed.' It wouldn't have been the first time. My friends had sent me videos before. Just to rub my face in the fact they were still single and free. Yet, the strange sender address should have clued me, and I knew better than to download the video, but... With a slight grin on my face I clicked to view the video, the video player opened as soon as the download was complete, and after a moment of dark blankness, it began to play. It was a hot babe. It was my wife's beautiful face staring intently into the camera, her luscious lips painted red and smiling seductively. Her long wavy hair was loose and splayed across her fair shoulders, framing her face in a wreath of ginger colored sexiness while her green eyes sparkled with naughty amusement. "Hello, my dear husband. I hope you're watching because you really don't want to miss what I'm about to show you." I began to get excited. My wife, Shela, out of state on a lengthy business trip, had been gone nearly two weeks and might not return for another two weeks, depending on how quickly they tied up things with her company's client. It wasn't unusual for her to send me photos of herself in various sorts of undress or for us to video chat while she was out of town. This was new, however. Oddly, she'd never sent me a video before. The other strange things were the fake sender's e-mail address she used and that she didn't write a message with the e-mail, but I was too engrossed as to what was coming next that I didn't give it much thought. Regardless, as I fleetingly thought of the strangeness of the e-mail, whatever my wife had planned for me to see and enjoy had my excitement rising. I quickly forgot about the peculiarity of it all. "Now, Joe, take a seat before I start. I don't want you to hurt yourself." I chuckled in gleeful anticipation, I was already getting horny hearing my wife's soft throaty voice. "Are you sitting?" A moment's pause. "Good. Let the show begin!" Shela declared with the cry of a sexy carnival barker. The camera panned out to reveal my wife, sitting naked on a large bed, with her arms wrapped around her uplifted knees. She slowly straightened her legs, letting her arms drop with them. Then just as slowly Shelia spread her legs; wider and wider, however, her arms and hands fell between her legs to block the camera's view (and my view) of her pleasure trove . She smiled again, while her eyes moved to look off camera, then the picture moved sideways! Whoa! I could understand panning the camera in and out, using a remote, but how did the camera -that I assumed was either laying on a table or mounted on a tripod- move to the side of its own accord? As I watched with a rapidly growing suspicion, my horniness put on hold, the camera stopped moving and a few seconds later a naked young guy steps into view. In confused disbelief I thought, 'What the fuck is going on!?!' With the camera's new angle I could now see the entire length of the bed, which the naked guy quickly lay upon. Shela slowly and very sensuously scooted down until she lay on her back next to the the man, while crooking her knees outward so that her pussy was displayed to the man's view. The man's hands then began to play all over Shela's body as he kissed her breasts and suckled her nipples. I could clearly see her thick nipples getting hard and jutting out like damning fingers. My wife, the love of my life, the future mother of our children, my best friend, the one I knew I could have grown old with, moaned in orgasmic delight at the touch of another man! I wanted to stop watching, to tear my eyes away. I wanted to delete the video and pretend I'd never seen it. But, I couldn't. I sat there dumbfounded, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do no more than writhe in anguish as uninvited tears began to run down my cheeks. Why was Shela doing this to me...To us? Why? What did I do to her for her to be so heartlessly cruel? Was this some fucked up joke? The man had moved atop Shela as she voluntarily spread her legs even further apart. Because of the camera angle I couldn't see her love portal that was supposed to be exclusively mine. Yet, without seeing, I knew, as they wiggled together, that he was preparing to enter one of the most sacred of places in a marriage. In moments his ass was moving in a rhythmic motion. I watched with increasing dismay as he began to plow my wife. And worse, by her increasingly louder moans, she was enjoying it! He lifted himself up by his arms, high enough so I could see his engorged cock exit Shela's pussy, then he rammed her. Hard. That's when he began to really go at it. He was moving rapidly, like a well oiled machine. Soon, Shela was screaming words she had never used when we made love. I think that's when my heart gave up the ghost and I began to sob in great heaves of despair. I couldn't see the video anymore as my eyes filled with a blinding drench of tears. I don't know how long I sat there in soul wrenching agony as the video played, it wasn't until I heard my wife -No! Not my wife anymore, just some slut named Shela- call my name that I became aware of what she said. "Joe...? Joe? Are you still there? I hope you are! I really do! I hope you saw everything! How he pleasured me like you can't! How I came over and over, like you have never been able to do for me. How hot he made me! Hotter than you could ever make me with your little prick! I hope you saw all that, because that's the last time you'll ever have the pleasure of my body or my heart! And, he's been getting it since I've been here! I'm filing for divorce as soon as I get home, you cheating asshole! Yes! That's right! I know about your little affair with that blond headed whoring bitch of a slut! So don't go playing all innocent on me, you slimy bastard! Oh, yes, if you aren't out of 'MY' home by the time I get into town, I'll call the cops and have you charged with raping me! Have a miserable life, fuck head!" What was she talking about!?! What blond? When? I pummeled my addled brain but nothing came to the forefront. I had no idea what she was talking about. I'd never cheated on her! Unless...it was that one girl I dated in college, she was a blond, but that was over twenty years go, and a few years before I'd met Shela! Why bring it up now!?! "One last thing, Joe. When you downloaded the video a little thing called a trojan entered your computer with the video. In a few seconds, this video and your computer will be so much crap. Just like you, asshole! So forget about trying to save it and using it against me, shit head." I heard her laugh a harsh, terrible sound of triumph just as the video went dark. When the video stopped playing, my computer, as well protected as it was with the best anti-everything money could buy, suddenly rebooted on its own, but when it tried to load up the operating system, it couldn't find it. Fuck! My reports! My meeting! I'd saved them to the hard drive before downloading and running the video and if what Shela said was true about the trojan, everything was corrupted to uselessness. Whatever hurt and betrayal I'd felt before by Shela's actions was shoved rudely aside and replaced by a rush of mindless rage. She was going to pay! And pay big time. I would fuck her up until the only thing left of her would be a vague dissipating memory. I moved out of 'OUR' house the next day, not because she demanded it, but because I didn't want to live in a house where I wasn't sure that it hadn't been used as a whore shack. I thought about staying and confronting Shela, but after I regained a slightly calmer frame of mind the following morning, I knew that in a face-to-face encounter I'd probably lose it. She'd end up in the morgue and I'd end up in jail. The slutty bitch wasn't worth it. Still raging, and sure that my emotional state would be apparent for awhile, I decided not to go to the office anytime soon. I called my office and told them I was going to work at home to finish the reports for the meeting. My boss wasn't too happy about it, but he finally gave in, as I remained adamant in my desire. I spent most of the following day packing what I could of what was mine, moving it out of the house and dropping it off at a storage unit, then staying at a cheap motel. I'd stay at the motel until I could find the time to locate an apartment. I had no real hope for my computer, but I knew a IT guy, Steve, a freelancer that my office used from time to time. I explained what had happened, although not about the video content, telling him I needed my saved files. He didn't promise anything, but stated that he might be able to recover something. If nothing else, he could wipe the hard drive and install the latest operating system and I'd have the use of my computer. He said to give him a week, and it might not be cheap. I agreed and told him I'd drop off the computer that afternoon. I began working on my reports for the meeting, using the red rage in my heart and the maelstrom of fury in my mind to fuel my grim determination. I worked day and night, with little regard to sleep -coffee is my friend- and eating only when the pangs in my stomach became too painful to ignore. It wasn't easy, but little by little, over the next few days I managed to recreate most of the report from written notes and memory. By the time I finished, I was still furious, but my fury had been blunted by an equal amount of weariness. There were a few things missing that I had saved to my computer, although not inconsequential, the missing elements wouldn't adversely affect my report too much. By the start of the following week, and two days before the meeting, as I was reviewing what I had completed, thinking my report lacked a professional finish, Steve called telling me he managed to save all my work. I could have kissed him at that point. Then he said something else that brought the first smile to my face in days. Although, looking up as I spoke to Steve, seeing myself in the motel room's wall mirror, it was not an especially pleasant smile. "Joe, I found some video data. Some of it's corrupted beyond recovery, but I think I can retrieve the rest of it. Do you want me to try? Or forget it, and just clean the hard drive and install the operating system?" If he could recover the video and if there was enough of it, then I might have the last horrible laugh on Shela. However, I didn't want to share that Shela had cuckolded me. It wasn't so much I was ashamed or embarrassed, I was far beyond that, but I felt the fewer the people that knew of the video's existence, the better it was for me in the upcoming divorce proceedings. And a hellish surprise for Shela! "Sure, try to recover it if you can, Steve. But, will you have to view the video to recover it?" "Nah, I don't think so. Why?" I thought a moment for a plausible explanation, before replying, "Well, no reason, really." Hesitating briefly, I continued, " It's a little embarrassing. The video is of a fishing trip when I caught one of the largest trouts ever. I was doing a silly little jig in the boat when..." Steve cut me off before I could continue my tall fish tale. "No, I won't have to see it." Although he didn't say it at the end of his sentence, I imagined hearing it anyway, "Thank God!" "Okay. Well, recover what you can and let me know as soon as you have something." "Sure thing. Anything else, boss man?", asked Steve, in a bored tone. "Yeah. If you do recover it, can you save the video to a thumb drive?" "No problemo. I'll start on it right away." "Great! Call me when its ready. Also, e-mail me the reports you recovered. I'll drop off a check tomorrow. Thanks, Steve!" I really meant my thanks to him, he just didn't know the truth of it. I wasn't happy, far from it, but I did feel grimly satisfied. I would be able to complete my report and maybe, just maybe, fuck over Shela. The pain of her betrayal was still raw, but with a great effort of will, I pushed it down and kept going. I don't know why Shela had to lie about me having an affair just so she could go out and fuck some dick head, or maybe to her it wasn't a lie. Maybe she did think I was fucking around. It's possible someone at her work filled her idiotic head with stupid ideas of my supposed infidelity. Or it could it be one of her friends. Ether way, it wasn't that important to me to find out who said what, the deed was done and Shela and I were through. ~N~ "Hey, girl. What's up? How did it go in Boston? Did you land another big one?" asked my co-worker, Ophelia, as we met for lunch the week after my return. "Hi, girlfriend. Yeah, it went well, and I landed a very big one." I replied, silently laughing at the image of John's big one. My lover of my last three weeks in Boston. Ophelia hadn't a clue. I was still very hurt and angry at what Joe had done, and I knew the feelings weren't going to go away. I just hoped he was hurt worse by what I had done to him, than I was by his cheating. The fucking asshole! If it hadn't been for Amber cluing me in, I'd still be the trusting, loyal, and the one-man wife of Joe Pleasant. I owed my friend more than I could ever repay. And John, of course! It was my idea to get back at Joe in the way I did. My best friend Amber, as vindictive as she is in her own affairs, thought it was too much, while I thought it wasn't enough. I wanted to make my soon to be ex-husband pay for what he'd done to me. He wasn't going to get away with it. No, sir. He'd pay for as long as I could make him pay! I spoke with Ophelia for a few minutes before finishing lunch and getting back to work. We had been scheduled for a meeting on the following week of our return from the trip to Boston, but the big boys decided to postpone it another day. So, I was putting added touches to my report and I wanted to finish before I left for the day. John had flown in and I had afternoon plans with him, and who knows? I might again share those plans with Joe. Four weeks later, John and I had just finished another fuck session in the bedroom Joe and I had once shared, when my cell phone went off. I wasn't going to even look at it, thinking it might be Joe, but after a moment of thought I stole a quick glance. It was Amber calling. Joe hadn't tried calling since before the day I sent the video to him. I thought he would at least call to curse me out. I would, of course, respond in kind, then laugh at him. But, not once had I heard from him in the last two months. Just as well, as I had nothing to say to him and he had nothing I wanted to hear from him. "Hi, Amber! Can I call you back? I'm right in the middle of something wonderful and I'd hate to lose the mood." "Sure, but I wanted to let you know that Joe and his blond slut just came in and are going upstairs to one of the rooms. And Shela- They seemed... um... really cozy." What!?! Did that man have no decency? The least he could do is have some grief from the payback I'd already given him. No! That won't do. He was not going to happily continue fucking his cunt. I was going to make Joe hurt as bad as he hurt me. The fucker! "I'm on my way, Amber. It'll take me about forty-five minutes. Call me if they leave before I get there, though. Okay?" She agreed and we hung up. I noticed I was trembling. I was angrier than I'd been when I first discovered his cheating. That fuck head, Joe! Now I knew he really didn't give a shit about me. Maybe he never had. Well, two could play at that game. "What's up, babe? Where're you going? I thought we could do it one..." John began, before I cut him off, as I began to dress. "Sorry, sugar. Something came up that I just have to take care of. Go on to your hotel room and I'll call you later. Okay?" He stood there, with his large thick cock sticking out as long and rigid as a blunted butcher's knife, and his face looking pitifully confused as a lost dog caught in the middle of rush hour traffic. "But babe, we were having such a great time. Come on, stay a little longer...A few minutes, then you can go. You know you want to." John said teasingly, but I could hear the boyish whine behind it. Before Amber called, I would have enjoyed having him all night, but I suddenly felt like retching. I swallowed my gorge and kissed John on the cheek. He smiled and said something about getting together later. I nodded, but I already knew there was not going to be a later. I was done with John. It'd been fun while it lasted, but he wasn't anyone I could see myself growing old with. He was younger than me by more than a few years. As sexual as my lover is, I knew it wouldn't be long before he was out looking for strange, once a few years passed and my looks began to go. No, John was just a tool. No matter that his tool was most excellent, I had no more use for him. ~N~ Love Thy Enemy As soon as Shela returned from her "business" trip, she'd hired one of the best cut-throat legal bitches that money could buy, Wanda Kimmer. Horror stories abounded as to the viciousness and proficiency of this she-shark in court. Rumor had it that most other divorce attorneys, once they discovered they'd be arguing against Kimmer, refused to take the opposing side. Thankfully my own attorney was another sharp fanged out-of-water predator and relished the idea of going up against Kimmer. But, a month after I arrived in France, Shela unexpectedly dropped her attorney and began to call mine. I don't know what changed in her life, but I was set to move forward with mine. Without Shela. ~N~ I awoke from another nightmare. They were coming with greater frequency and becoming more vivid. They differed in detail but the plot was the same one, over and over. I was in a hotel room, and John, or some other faceless hard body, is laying next to me in bed, when the door or window or even the wall bursts open and Joe, my Joe, my husband, walks in with a happy content look on his face, and somehow he's carrying everything in his arms that we'd achieved and accumulated in our marriage. Joe smiles at me until he notices what I'm doing. I try to jump out of the bed, but my arms and legs are either bound to the bed with my bra and undies or they are shackled by heavy chains to the floor and wall, and that bruise and cut my limbs. I cry out to him as I see his face go from surprise, to dismay, to anguish and then to raw fury. All the while, the man has climbed atop me, and begins moving in and out like clockwork, ignoring me and Joe. His sole intent is to keep fucking me, only now it feels like he's using a long razor sharp knife, tearing me open from the inside out. I feel the blood pouring out of me and I feel myself dying, and I don't care. All I see and care about is Joe. As his expressions go through the different changes, all those special wonderful things in his arms begin to disappear, until all I see is the rage in his eyes and his bare arms shaking with unbridled emotion. I call out to him, over and over, but he stares at me with blind eyes, and disappears. Next, I'm alone in the hotel room, not even my boy toy is there. All I feel is that a part of me was cut out and which I now miss so terribly. I awaken crying after every dream. Hoping, wishing that my life was just a dream and that I would wake and Joe would be laying next to me, his snoring, once annoying, soothing me with the comfort of his sleeping presence. The day I discovered my horrible mistake, at that moment, I fainted right on the sidewalk. When I saw and heard who the man was, I was overcome with the guilt of my betrayal and the agony of knowing how deeply I'd hurt the man I love and who loved me. When I came to I was in Amber's office, Joe's cousin, Hank, and his wife, were quietly talking. Amber was no where to be seen. I sat up and the two people I most desperately didn't want to see, looked at me. What I saw in their eyes almost made me want to rejoin the blackness. It was pity. "Welcome back. Here, drink this." the woman urged as she handed me a glass of water. I dumbly took the glass and sipped at it, then a sudden unbearable thirst came upon me and I gulped the water down in one long swallow. The woman gave me a slight smile and asked if I wanted more water. I guess I nodded my head for she went off to refill the glass. Hank Pleasant looked at me. His eyes held a questioning look in them. I knew what he wondered about, and that made me feel all the worse for it. I had accused my husband of something he had never done and then mistakenly blamed another for it. I felt lower than low. I just wished I could die. Oh, my God! JOE! I needed to call Joe! I needed to explain! I didn't know how I could explain it so that he wouldn't kill me. Not after what I'd done, but I had to. I just had to! "We brought you into your friend's office after you fainted. As I happen to be a doctor, a real doctor, not a PhD, I checked for injury...head trauma and the like. I think you're fine. However, you might have a slight concussion and I recommend you going to the hospital and having them take X-rays. You did hit your head on the sidewalk rather solidly." explained Joe's cousin. Other than having a bad headache and a "I just died and woke up in hell" feeling, I was okay. "Thank you. But, I think I'll live." I paused as a look of slight annoyance crossed his features. "Really, if I feel worse or something, I'll go to the hospital." The blond woman returned at that time...His wife! My God! What have I done? "Here you go. Drink it slowly. Otherwise, you might upset your stomach." said Hank's wife as she handed me the refilled glass. I sipped at it, taking my time. I needed the time to clear my mind and figure out what I could do to salvage my marriage...Whatever was left of it. I didn't have the slightest idea what I could tell Joe to explain my infidelity. He never cared for Amber, and if I mentioned it was Amber who "clued" me in about what was going on, even if it was mistaken identity, I knew I'd only make things worse. Oh, god! No! I had told my family, his family, and mutual friends that Joe had cheated! What was I going to tell them now!?! In another foolish try at punishing Joe, I'd told everyone how Joe had cheated on me. I never told them what I'd done in return. Now... "Are you okay?" asked Hank's wife, her tone tinged with concern. I guess my face must have reflected my thoughts. "No. I'm not. I made a huge mistake. And..." I couldn't continue. Instead I began to cry. I couldn't help it. I felt so lost and so uncertain. Someone put their arm around me and held me. I couldn't tell who it was since my eyes were squeezed tightly shut as I tried to stifle my tears. "It's okay, Shela. I'm here. I feel so bad. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. It's all my fault." It was my friend Amber. I felt a rise of anger and hatred for her. Yes, it was all her fault. She...NO! She didn't tell me to do what I did to exact revenge. She counseled against it! She tried to talk me out of it. She was even mildly disgusted by it. But, I knew better. I was going for the kill. And all I did was kill my marriage over a mistake that would have been nothing if I hadn't gone to bed with another man and sent that damned video to Joe. Joe and I would have ended up joking about the mix-up. Perhaps remembering it amusingly well into our old age. Not anymore. Unless I could get Joe to listen to me. To give me a chance to somehow make it right. The thing is, I had no idea how to do any of that. I didn't even know where he had moved to. The hopelessness I felt, reached out and pulled the plug that was holding my emotions in check and I began to sob like a forlorn soul. I don't how long my best friend held me, but finally my eyes stopped the waterfall and although my heart ached and my stomach threatened to return what I'd drank, I knew I had to find Joe and beg him to forgive me. "I'm better now, Amber. Thanks for helping me." I said to my best friend, grateful for her caring presence. I saw her face was wet and for a moment I thought my tears had dripped on to her, but then I noticed her eyes were red and swollen. She had been crying, too! "I'm so sorry, Shela. I...I...fucked up. I ruined your marriage. Please forgive me." I patted her shoulder and I felt something fill me. My friend was taking all the blame and asking me to forgive her for MY mistake. "Oh, no Amber. You didn't do anything. I did it. You tried to warn me. You tried to stop me. No person could ask for a better friend. There is nothing to forgive." Amber gave me a surprised but grateful look, then slowly nodded. "I still feel horrible. If I hadn't of told you about what I'd seen, you'd still be a happily married woman. I'm partially to blame." I hugged her. I looked around and saw that Hank and his wife had left. "Where did Joe's cousin go?" Amber dropped her arms from around me and stood. "They had to get back to their clinic, but they gave me their card, saying to call if you needed anything." Amber reached for something on her desk and handed it to me. I took the proffered business card and looked at it. It had a logo and the name "Pleasent Clinic of New York" with their names, Hank and Rita Pleasant, Mds. Along with their clinic address, phone number, fax, and email address. I'd met several members of Joe's family through the years Joe and I'd been married, but I never met that particular family member. It was uncanny how alike they looked. If it hadn't been for those slight differences, I wouldn't have believed it wasn't Joe. And that reminded me I had to find Joe and talk to him. I didn't know if he would forgive me, probably not, but I had to try. If I hadn't been so sure of the pictures I'd seen and allowed my common sense to leave me, I'd have reacted a lot better than I did. But, when I saw the photos of Hank and his wife, taken by Amber, thinking it was Joe, I lost it. I felt the woman betrayed, mislead, lied to, but most of all, humiliated. I'd raved about Joe to my family and friends, especially Amber, for years. And when Amber had seen Hank, and taken those photos, I could see my humiliation in her eyes. I was a woman scorned and I have a terrible temper. Woe to me. The saddest part is I couldn't blame anyone but myself. I felt some anger towards Amber, but it wasn't her mistake. Sure she had seen Joe plenty of times to know what he looked like, but I couldn't blame her when she thought Hank was Joe. They looked so much alike. I too was fooled by the photos and video she took of Hank with his wife, Rita. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then looked up at Amber. "Amber, I need your help. I know you and Joe haven't see eye to eye, but I need to find him. And somehow get him to talk to me. I hate to ask you, but when I find him, I might need you as a go between. Will you do it?" Amber sat back down without saying a word. Her eyes seemed out of focus as she listened. Still with that far off look, she asked, "Do you know why I have never liked Joe?" I didn't know why she would ask such a strange question at this time, but I stayed silent, shaking my head no. Amber's eyes refocused and when she looked at me there was a burning intensity in them. "When we met Joe and his friend, Mark, we double dated for awhile. You remember?" I nodded. "I didn't tell you this before, but his friend pawed me each time you and Joe left us alone. It wasn't a one time thing, every time we got together he was all over me. And when I refused his advances, no matter where we were, he would leave me to go find someone easy. Until, finally, I stopped going out with you guys. That put an end to that." Shocked at this revelation, I asked Amber why she didn't tell me all this before. Amber drew a deep breath, perhaps to steel herself. "I was going to, but then you and Joe got serious, and I didn't have the heart to spoil the happiness you had with Joe. But... I had such a bad experience during that time that it left a bad impression about Joe and I thought he was the same kind of guy as his friend. Thinking it was just a matter of time before he showed his true colors to you, too. So I waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. It never did, or at least where I knew about it. All these years I really thought Joe was cheating behind your back." I stared at my best friend with something akin to shock. "Why would you think that, Amber?" Amber dropped her head, watching her hands clasp and unclasp, then looked back up. "There were signs here and there that seemed to indicate he was. Cheating, I mean. You remember the night of that party five years ago, where Joe and I had it out?" I remembered that night. I was so pissed at Joe for fighting with Amber and embarrassing me in front of all my friends that I wouldn't let him touch me for two weeks. Joe tried to explain what had happened, but each time he started, I either told him to shut up or simply walked away from him. He finally gave in and dropped it. But not before I'd made sure I would not tolerate him fighting with my friends. "Yes, I remember." With a slight trembling of my voice, I asked, "Why? What does it have to do with..." But I couldn't finish. Was Amber trying to tell me Joe had cheated on me, or tried to? I felt my anger beginning to rise again. I tried to squash it, to no avail. I grit my teeth instead. "I saw him with Donna Higgins a little earlier that night. I didn't hear what they were talking about, but her actions were obvious as to what both wanted. She had her arm draped around his neck and he had her by the shoulders. Before I could get to them, she left, so I confronted Joe about it. You know me, I kind of lose it when I see bad going on. In seconds I accused Joe of trying to fuck Donna. I suppose he denied it. I don't remember his exact words, but whatever he said, just pissed me off and I slapped him." Amber stopped talking and drew a deep breath. "You have to understand, Shell, I thought he was going behind your back. I should have come to get you. To let you deal with it. But...But, you're my best friend and I still had it in my mind that Joe would cheat on you." I never knew exactly what had caused the blow up. I had simply blamed Joe because I knew how he felt about Amber. He even had a nick name for her which I hated, "Arctic". According to Joe, it stood for "Amber, Righteous Cold Titted Cunt". So all this was news to me and I wondered if Amber had been right all along. "And...Was he...Was he trying to get into Donna's panties?" Amber shook her head sorrowfully. "Days later I ran into Donna and I spoke to her about it. She said she'd had too much to drink and she tripped, and was about to fall into some thorn bushes, when out of nowhere Joe came along, grabbed her and saved her from getting hurt. She was trying to thank him, in her own way, when I saw them." Amber smirked at how Donna would thank any man. "But he wouldn't go for it and was trying to make sure she was okay before he left her. After talking to Donna, I felt so bad about the slap. The fight. But, I couldn't go to you, and especially Joe, and admit I was wrong." "Oh, Amber. I wish you had told me what had happened. I blamed Joe for it. I know he 's had issues with you, so I thought he started the fight." At the thought of Joe, I began to tear up, again. I'd wronged him by fucking John, but apparently, I'd been wronging him long before then. Taking a deep breath, I stood up. "I have to go make some things right before I talk to Joe. I said some horrible untruthful things to many people. I have to go explain...Anyway, I'll see you later, Amber." "Okay, I'll help you. If you still want me too." Amber said to my back before I walked out of her office. ~N~ One of the most difficult things to do is trying to second guess people's motivates for what they say and do. It was a solemn start of the week the Monday after Bergit and I had worked all weekend to finish a projected financial analysis for one of our largest clients. Bergit and I had become friends, not just at work but outside of work, too. We were both foreigners working in France, and as we become friendlier we discussed our personal interests, discovering we had many of those in common as well. I have to stress that on my part I viewed Bergit as a no more than a friend. Maybe, even a good friend, but without the benefits that some good friends share. I live fairly close to the office –a ten minute walk-- while Bergit lives about forty minutes away by train. To ease her time and to hasten our weekend schedule I offered her the spare bedroom at my place. It made sense to me, and Bergit jumped at the idea with a fair amount of excitement, which was an unusual reaction for her. So for the next two evenings, beginning Friday, we stopped to eat dinner and then off to my place to rest for the next day. Bregit kept a couple of changes of clothing in her office. With the unpredictability of the weather in Paris, you never knew when a rain shower would catch a person and soak them. Carrying an umbrella all the time while lugging large cases and boxes wasn't practical either. And you didn't want to meet with a client while looking like a drowned rat. Many of the employees kept a change of clothing handy. Thus clean clothing wasn't an issue, plus I had a washer and dryer -on my insistence. It was Sunday evening, we had finally finished the analysis and had eaten, and were talking at my place. We somehow came around to the topic of our respective relationships. "Joesph, you never mention your wife. Why is that?" Bregit asked while sipping her wine. I shrugged my shoulders, and made some idle comment about being separated. She raised her left eyebrow, leaned forward and asked with unabashed curiosity, "Why are you separated?" I hesitated before answering, trying to determine if I could hold my emotions in check while talking about what had happened. I didn't feel much of anything about Shela now, so I thought why the hell not. The only one who knew the entire story was my attorney. And, I was curious to get a uninvolved woman's point of view. I told her my story. While I related everything to her, she asked a question here and there to clarify something. For the most part she listened. And listened attentively, like it was the sole most important thing for her to do. After I finished, she looked at me and she had the saddest look I'd ever seen on a person. I think she felt sadder than I had at my lowest point. It made me feel like a heel that I'd made her feel so bad. Setting that feeling aside, I looked away from her to sip my wine, saying, "There you have it, Bregit. Not a very interesting story of itself. It's just another cheating spouse. I'm getting over it." Looking at her inquiringly, I asked her, almost nonchalantly, "But, I would like to know how you see it." Bregit appeared to be a little uncomfortable at my request. She nervously played with her wine glass as she stared off somewhere, some place I was not privy to. I saw Bregit's expression change as she focused on me again, she looked like she had reached some sort of decision. Her eyes searched my face before responding, "I think your wife made a very big mistake. I've not known you for so long, Joesph, but what I do know, I don't feel you are the quality of man to cheat on his wife. Perhaps, she does think you cheated- although revenge is never worthwhile, I can understand the motivation behind such revenge. Love is very strong, also very weak. It is joyful and inspiring, also sad and depressing. Love is a very great inducement, urging us to do things we would not normally act out. Including revenge. Yes?" I thought about what she had just said, I didn't quite get her reasoning. How could true love, the eternal love alluded to and praised by poets, be the catalyst of such great betrayal? "I don't know about that, Bregit. Admittedly, revenge is a harsh word and it does conjure up some outrageous conceptions, however, retribution- or as we Americans say, payback -can be quite satisfying." Bregit mouthed something wordlessly, before saying, with the innocent wonder of a child's glee. "Payback. Pay-eee...Back! I like the sound of that word. There is a power to it. Payback!" Smiling with both her eyes and her lips, she added, "You Americans are very inventive with the English language, Joesph." I returned her smile, then, somewhat regretfully, returned the conversation to the main discussion, "What do you mean when you say revenge is caused by love?" I spoke more brusquely than I had intended to and it affected my guest. She looked away from me, her smile disappearing. "Perhaps, I- I explain- wrongly?" she said uncertainly. The few times Bregit had become flustered at work, her English would become strained, dropping conjunctions and forgetting participles. As it was happening as she tried to backtrack. Love Thy Enemy "No, I don't think you did, Bregit. Please, I really want to know what you mean. I want to understand." I said with a gentler tone of voice. Breathing deeply, she nodded, "You are correct, Joesph. Okay, I will explain." I couldn't help but notice her compact breasts rise up, stretch her blouse slightly, as she took those deep breaths. Beginning slowly, as if gathering her thoughts off the cuff, she said, "I am a woman, Joesph. As a woman, and I know very many women are the same, we feel our emotions differently than men. We also feel these emotions more intensely and much deeper than many men. Because of this thing, this difference, women are emotional thinkers. Men, from what I have experienced, they do not feel their emotions in the same way as women. They are not ruled as much by their emotions as women. Because of this difference, men are more logical thinkers. Does this- Do you understand what I say, Joesph?" I nodded, "Yes. I'm with you." A look of confusion crossed her pretty Nordic features. "Yes, you are with me. We are here, together, Joesph, but do you not understand my words?" "Yes, we're together. But, I meant, I understand what you're saying." Her eyes brightened with quick understanding. "Is that another American- How do you say?" Bregit's face scrunched up cutely, as she tried to remember the word she wanted. "Clo- mm..." "Colloquialism. Yes, that phrase is just one of many of our American idioms." I explained dryly. "But, please, continue with what you're saying." "Joesph, if a strange man were to punch you, for no reason. You would maybe hit him, too. Yes? But, would you carry a long term grievance against this stranger for hitting you one time?" "Probably not. Once the fight was over, and I'd won, I'd eventually forget about it." "Exactly! Even if you had not won, I think you would one day forget about it, anyway. Yes?" I shrugged my shoulders in response. Taking my non-verbal response as agreement, Bregit continued, moving her head about, slightly, as she spoke. "Many women would not. They would brood over the incident. Then, maybe one day, much later, if a woman saw the other woman, who had punched her, then she would take action. Her emotions would control her mind. In the same way, I think your wife brooded for some time, building up- those negative emotions, until they controlled her. Do you see?" I thought I detected a imploring note in her voice. I guess she'd hoped I'd understand the rationale behind Shela's actions. Maybe I did, but that didn't change how I felt about her actions. It certainly didn't alter the decision I'd made for the basis of my own actions. I simply nodded, rather than to explain anything else of how I felt. Encouraged by my silence, Bregit changed gears, becoming animated and gesticulating with her hands as she spoke with a growing excitement. "Women are impulsive because of their emotions, Joesph, but they are also very- I think, the word is cunning. Women can- sulk! Yes, sulk- for a long time, begin planning, and then act when they feel the time is correct. I think, your wife, she waited, perhaps to plan her revenge, I could not know her exact thinking, but I do not believe she behaved impulsively. She took her time, I think, to hurt you." Her last words hit home. They descended rapidly Into that deep dark recess we hide ourselves in, renewing the intense pain of a previously dull ache. I guess my expression changed to something less than pleasant, for Bregit's face took on a look of sudden alarm. Leaning forward and making a motion as if to touch me, she said, "Oh, Joesph, I am sorry. I apologize for my thoughtless words." I smiled at Bregit, although I felt more like gritting my teeth and snarling. "No, you did nothing wrong. Remember, I asked for your thoughts on what I'd been through. You're merely expressing an honest opinion and I can't ask for more than that. So, please, don't apologize for giving me what I asked for." Bregit nodded her head slowly, unsure of my sincerity. "Thank you, Joesph." She quickly glanced around the room somewhat nervously rather than to continue looking at me. "Perhaps, I should leave. I can go now and arrive at the station in time to catch the last train." Already my pain was dissipating, its reemergence, at Bregit's words, a fading spark of what once upon a time a raging bonfire. "No. Please stay. It's late and from the sound of it, its' begun to rain." Bregit looked at me with a wistful expression. I could tell she was ready to bolt. "Really, Bregit. I'm fine. You caught me by surprise, is all. I guess I wasn't as emotionally separated from my experience as I thought." I said with a slightly forced chortle. She seemed to relax slightly, but I could sense she wasn't fully convinced. I wasn't sure why I wanted her to stay. I liked her, sure, but no more than what I would care for a good friend. I certainly had no designs on her. Not that I hadn't thought of her in a less than professional way, she certainly was pretty enough, but those thoughts had been fleeting and easily ousted from my mind. "Look, let's finish the wine while we talk of other things. Then, we'll head off to sleep. How does that sound?" "Okay, Joesph. Let us do that. And, thank you." For the next hour we spoke of her life in Norway and in France, of my business aspirations, and of other prosaic subjects. Until we reached an impasse in our conversational mundanity. I sipped at the wine, my thoughts drifting lazily to nothing in particular, enjoying the shared companionable quiet between Bregit and myself over the last few minutes. "Joesph- may I say something- of your marriage? If you do not mind." The question was asked with conflicting tonal inflections. Apparently, Bregit dreaded bringing up whatever it was, but something else drove her, regardless of what it might incur. "Sure. Go for it." A quizzical expression appeared momentarily on her lovely face, and just as quickly a soft smile erased it. Bridget raised her head to look me squarely in the eye as she began to speak. "I do not mean to say that I agree with your wife's thinking. As I do not. I think- I think what she did is a very horrible thing to play on someone else, ear... um... irrespective! Of the reason behind it. Your wife- she made many mistakes. The worst mistake is not trusting you. The second bad mistake is not speaking with you about her- concerns. By themselves, as bad as these are, the two bad mistakes are not what has caused your negative emotions of your wife. I think you could have make- I mean, made your marriage work, if she did not go farther. Yes?" "Yes. I could have worked things out with her at that point. Probably. It wouldn't have been a easy task, but I think we could have made it. But-" Bergit interrupted before I could finish what I wanted to say. "Yes! But- your wife took a man to her bad- I mean bed, and, as you Americans say, 'crossed the line'. Yes?", she exclaimed, somewhat agitatedly. Okay, so she had spoken the thought I had. "Yes. Shela crossed the line. And, it's a line that can never be crossed in a healthy loving relationship, like in a marriage. That is, in a monogamous marriage." "Yes! What your wife did, she made only a small problem a very big problem." "I agree with you, Bregit. It has only added to a problem she created. I've never cheated on my wife. Never! Sure, I've been tempted –I think every guy has-- but I've never crossed that line. It isn't worth it. But, I don't have a choice in it anymore. What's done is done, and there is no going back." Bregit gave me a long searching look before she spoke again. "Are you certain there is not a chance you can forgive what she has done and return to her?" She asked with a curious tone in her voice. Leaning forward I motioned with my hand, moving it side-to-side, palm down, to emphasis my words, saying, "No. I can't. It goes beyond just the act of sex with another person. It's everything that lays behind it. It's the lack of faith on her part, the loss of trust on both our parts, and the treachery of her act. Not to mention, she never gave me the opportunity to defend myself against her accusations. Shela willfully and gleefully destroyed the basis of our marriage. Even if I could forgive Shela, a relationship with her would be filled with undisguised disgust, uncertainty, and no little distrust, each time I looked at her. Her deed was the ultimate and brutal betrayal." I stopped to collect myself, I could feel strong emotions begin to build. Again. Bregit looked at me briefly as I finished speaking, and I swear I saw a slight blush on her face. Clearing my throat I continued more calmly, "I wish it hadn't happened, but it did and now- It's all about moving forward. Never backward. Always forward, Bregit." I looked at her. I think I saw a glint in her eye, What it meant, I wasn't sure. The room became uncomfortably silent for a moment, as if we both expected something to happen. A pregnant pause. It was a bit awkward, but then I shook myself, grabbed my wine glass, and stood to open another bottle of wine. "Would you like one more glass of wine before we head off to sleep, Bregit?" "Yes, one more glass, please. I will help you." Before I could respond, she sprung up, but too quickly, for she lost her balance. I reached out with my one free hand to grab her arm and steady her. But, she was too unbalanced and fell back, with her weight pulling me down atop her on the couch. We lay face to face, and without thought, or a conscious desire, I kissed her. She kissed me back, wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. Our kiss lasted for an infinity, and yet it was all too short. When we finally drew apart, I wanted more. I eased myself beside her, never taking my eyes off of hers. I took her empty wine glass, placing hers and mine on the floor, then I reached over to hold her shoulders as I kissed her again. Her response was a passionate embrace that seemed to fill me with a sense of happiness, stoking some deeply buried passions, and then our lips opened and our tongues raced to touch and danced together, as our bodies moved to the furor of a maddening crescendo. Bregit's body undulated next to mine, pressing against me, rubbing against my chest and legs. My nether region responded accordingly, my stiffening member pushing and rubbing against her thigh while my hands unceasingly roamed the contours of her hips, legs and breasts. She began to radiate a searing arousal. My mind became a brightly exploding void as her escalating passions engulfed me, filling my body and soul with a wild fire of desire matching her own. I easily picked up Birget, carrying her to the bedroom. I slowly lay her down on the bed covers, then eased down next to her. Her eyes were closed, her sweet lips were slightly open as if in invitation. She was silently panting. I could feel the warm soft puffs of her breath spill across my face like ghostly caresses. I moved one of my hands to her left breast; it was both soft and firm. She didn't have large breasts, but they filled her sheer bra very nicely. I rubbed my thumb across her jutting nipple as outlined by her blouse. She gave a slight gasp. Encouraged by her sound of pleasure I slowly ran my hand down to her tummy, lightly touching her hot skin as I moved under her blouse and up to her breasts. She gasped again, but louder, as I pulled her blouse and bra up, exposing her breasts, and began to gently lick and nibble at her nipples while the tips of my fingers caressed her perfectly smooth slopes of her breasts. Her hands were still clasped around my neck and I could feel her arms relaxing as I moved my nimble fingers along her breasts and over the rest of her supple body. I kissed her again, and my passion exploded as did hers. We went from slow motion, to fast forward. We groped, grabbed, pulled at one another, kissed until our lips bruised, and somehow we ended up naked. Drops of slick perspiration covered our bodies like glistening crystal jewels. I had moved atop her and my engorged cock was straining to move into her. Her legs were only slightly spread, but I pushed slowly against her, until they parted enough to enter her warm wet cavern of womanhood. I looked down into her eyes as I began to ease into her, and she looked back at me. Her eyes were expectant, waiting, demanding, then... I bottomed out and my brain exploded with the sensation of being inside her velvety softness. We began to move, slowly at first, but then faster, as we both gained the rhythm of our bodies becoming one. There were no loving thoughts, no words of endearment, no lies, no promises, no regrets, as we began to have sex in earnest. Little murmurs of desire and pleasure escaped her sweet swollen lips to match my masculine guttural sounds of wanton desire. I'm not sure how long we fucked, but when we came, it was together. We irrupted as one. Our universe expanded and contracted repeatedly, innumerable times, in an instant. I could feel our rapidly beating hearts synced in harmonious drumming, I felt the clenching of my belly muscles against her spasming abdominal muscles. Then we were spent. I collapsed atop her with a loud grunt. I tried to roll off her but my arms were too weak to lift and roll me away. We lay there minutes, hours, days- A timeless moment. Our sweat poured off of us and mingled on the bed cover, to mix with the succuses leaked by our furious sexual exertions. Finally, she helped me move off her. Her eyes were closed as she took great gulps of air, causing her breasts to move up and down like buoys in rough seas . I could feel my cock stirring in response; preparing for another go. I stared at her loveliness, her near perfect skin, her slightly swollen lips, her small nose, and her slim but sensual neck. I saw the pulse on her neck as it throbbed, and my cock throbbed in time to it. I didn't love the girl but there was something there that hadn't been there before, or perhaps, I just never noticed. While I looked at her and tried to figure out what it was that now defined us, she opened her eyes, sat up, looked around, until her gaze settled on me. She saw me looking at her, and a hint of a smile played across her lips. But, something about her had changed. The sadness I had seen earlier, was back. "Joesph- I am- I am submitting my resignation tomorrow morning." I was floating in a very pleasant place, but at her words I plummeted to earth; crashing and burning. "What? Why?" "I am sorry, Joesph. I was going to tell you Friday, but then I think it would have interfered with our work. Yes? So I waited. I am going home. There is someone back home, waiting on me to say yes to his proposal of marriage. And, I will say yes. I will say yes, and never again leave him or do with another what we have done tonight." I was beyond words. I didn't know what to say. A fiancé? That was news to me. "I see you are sad, Joesph. So am I. But, it is what I must do. I will be a good wife to him and if it should happen, be a good mother too, to our children." "Was I mistake? Was I some kind of litmus test?" I blurted out. As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. I had let my anger form my words instead of my brain. Her look went from sadness to a warm kindness. "No, Joesph. You are a good friend. I do not regret what we did. It has shown me what love from a good man is like. My fiancé is a good man too. Just like you, Joesph. I realized this as I worked with you. You were kind, patient and very helpful. Tonight you were that and more. Thanks to you, I have made up my mind. I will marry him." I looked away from her as her words poured over me and filled me with...I don't know. Gratefulness? Anger? Hurt? Sadness? Jealousy? And yes, even happiness? I felt all of the aforementioned. "Please, Joesph, my time with you was- I did not plan it, but I am glad we made love. I shall never forget this feeling. I will always remember you, Joesph. Always." With that, she left the bed, gathered her clothes, quickly dressed, and with a chaste peck on my cheek, walked to the bedroom door. I could do nothing, but watch her leave as I lay spent, still in the grip of a sexual stupor, with my mind again whirling in emotional turmoil. Bregit stopped, turned around to face me, and uttered a final parting. "Joesph. Even if you do not return to your wife, please forgive her. If you want to move forward, I think, you must forgive her. I wish you a good life. Au revoir, mon ami." ~N~ Monday morning Bregit came in to drop off her resignation with Human Resources. She went to all her co-workers to bid them goodbye. She never came to my office, although I knew she wouldn't, it still bothered me. A month passed since Bregit had quit when I'd hired a new assistant. She was nothing like Bregit, but then few were. Diane was capable and very organized, but the pizazz I had with Bregit was missing. That was okay, too. I made up for it by throwing myself ever deeper into my work. I even allowed the lower echelons -the working stiffs- to forward their own ideas through their department heads. This improved moral quite a bit. I think some even began to like me. Which was like rain on a duck, their regards ran right off. I didn't care if anyone liked me, as long as they did their jobs the best they knew how. I had spoken to my attorney several times during that month, he saying that Shela was becoming frantic in her attempt to contact me, and me replying that I didn't care. We had already divided our material and financial assets, so there was nothing to talk about. I didn't care why she cheated, all that mattered to me is that she did. I would never forgive or forget that. It was a Tuesday night, just over six weeks since Bregit had left, when my world changed... Chapter Three I was working late that evening, the staff had already left and I was going over some last minute changes on some of the proposals, when there was a knock at my door. During business hours my door is always open, but after hours, I close the door to prevent the noises the cleaning crew made to keep from breaking my concentration. I thought it might be one of the cleaning crew, come to ask if they could do my office. My mind and eyes were still on focused on the paperwork as I shouted at whomever it was to enter. The door slowly opened and I heard the hard clacking sound of footfalls on marble as someone neared my desk. I looked up expecting...Well, not who I saw. I was filled with mind numbing surprise as Amber stood before me. I felt my body begin to shake, whether in anger or some undefined reaction to her presence, I don't know, but I quickly found my voice. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Anger flashed in her eyes, but she never changed her facial expression, which seemed both sad and exultant. "And how did you get past security?" "Hello to you too, Joe." she said in her naturally sultry voice. Amber always spoke like she was getting ready to have sex. She had that voice quality of low smoky tones, with just a hint of a promise. I was immune to it for all I felt was anger coursing through me as she spoke. "Aren't you going to offer a girl something to drink? After all, I traveled four-thousand miles and that builds up quite a thirst." I wanted to throw her out, but my anger ebbed enough to be replaced by a morbid curiosity. Why had she come to France? It couldn't be simply to talk to me. Since she had to know I had no intention of talking to her, and that's a lot of money to spend on nothing. I shrugged, stood up and walked to the wet bar. While my office had a bar, I didn't indulge, it was for clients in case they wanted to relax, in a more informal way. I fixed her a scotch on the rocks. I didn't care for Amber, but over the years, I'd come to know some things about her, like what she preferred to drink. While I made the drink, Amber went to sit on the plush couch that was part of the office décor. Love Thy Enemy I handed her the drink and sat in a equally plush arm chair. Her eyes widened in surprise as she sipped at her drink. "How did you know I like scotch? I didn't think you noticed that much about me." Again, I shrugged. "Why don't you tell me why you're here, Amber. I'd hate for you to waste your time anymore than you need to." It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why she was here, so far from home, in a foreign country, but I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear her beg for forgiveness on behalf of her friend; my soon to be ex-wife. I wanted her to humble herself. It was small enough pay back, in fact, I decided on the spot it would be the beginning of a long and very painful journey for both Shela and Amber. She sipped at her drink a bit more, then set it down. She tossed her long auburn hair over her shoulders, and turned to face me. "You must know I'm here for Shela's sake. She's been wanting to talk to you, but you've not made it easy. She tried to get time off from work to come herself, but she was denied. And she needs her job –now that you've financially cut her off. I had some vacation time due me and I've always wanted to see Paris. So here I am. Killing two birds with one stone. So to speak" Her smile was razor thin as she said that. I sat, not thinking or responding, just listening. I didn't like Amber, but she was here, and as much as I hated Shela, I decided I would listen quietly then have her leave so she could enjoy her vacation and I could get back to work. Amber leaned forward, picked up her drink and took another sip. "Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked in a curious tone. I simply looked at her, gesturing for her to continue. Sighing, Amber set her drink down and looked around the office. Then she stood and walked to one of the large plate glass windows that walled one side of the office. "Wow. Nice office you have here. I think it's bigger than my entire apartment. And, it has a great view! With the river Seine in the distance! Really, Joe, what did you have to do to rate such treatment?" I felt my anger rising. I knew she was trying to coax a response from me. But, I kept my cool and steered the conversation back into focus. "Amber, I don't have much time. I have a lot of work to do before I can go home tonight. So just get to the point of your visit." "Damn! Even with your fancy clothes, working in a fancy office, in a fancy city, you're still an asshole!" she declared in a hateful tone. I shrugged again. "Alright! Damn you! I don't know what Shela sees in you, but she sent me here to ask if you'd talk to her. She realizes she made a huge mistake. She wants to save her marriage. But, she can't do it if you won't talk to her. She's in limbo. She's hurting badly. She's..." I cut her off before she could say anything else. "Listen you fucking bitch! I don't give a flying fuck if Shela is hurting! She cheated on ME! I didn't cheat on her! Do you understand that, you pathetic cunt? I don't need to talk to Shela because there is nothing to save! She killed any chance of that when she fucked her boy toy and made certain I knew about it! I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Now get the fuck out! Or I'll call security and have you charged with breaking and entering, along with trespassing!" I hadn't meant to explode. But, with all the shit Amber was flinging at me, I found myself in the throes of a rage I thought had been tempered with geography and the time thats' passed. I guess I was wrong. The walls of my office had absorbed most of my yell, yet, they seemed to echo in my head after I finished. Amber stood stunned, her mouth open in shock at my violent verbal outburst. That didn't last long as anger filled her eyes. She began a retort, but before she could utter another lying word, I said, in a lower volume and a calmer voice, "Just leave, Amber. I meant what I said. I will call security and have you escorted off the premises." As I spoke, I stood and walked toward my desk, reaching for the phone. She snapped her mouth shut, and glared hotly at me, then spun on her heels, grabbed her purse off the end table and began to walk out. Right before she reached the door, she stopped. I was getting ready to pick up the handset when she said something. I wasn't quiet sure I'd heard what she'd said. In fact, it sounded so unlike Amber, that I had to ask her to repeat herself. With her back still to me, she said it again only slightly louder. "I'm sorry." Now it was my turn to be stunned! Amber saying she was sorry was an earth shattering event and deserved a closer examination. "Okay, I'll bite. What are you sorry for, bitch?" Turning towards me, she lowered her head. "It's all my fault! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry!" At that, Amber began to cry! In all my years of knowing Amber I'd never heard of her crying and certainly never seen her cry. For the second time in the space of a few seconds, I was stunned. "What are you talking about? What is your fault?" "It's my fault for what Shela did to you. I was wrong. Please! It's not Shela's fault. It's mine!" Amber wrong!?! What the fuck had she been smoking? I was tempted to go sniff her glass to see if somehow the scotch was spiked. Amber never admitted to being wrong. Never. It was the only character trait that made Amber, well...Amber. So who was this woman who stood sobbing in front of me. It sure wasn't the Amber I hated to know and loved to hate. "I've no idea what shit you're spouting about now. But, whatever it is, it isn't going to work. Shela did what she did and that's all there is to it. If you urged her to cheat then you really better leave before I do something to you we will both regret!" I was shouting again. Amber simply nodded as her sobs became louder and heavier. She turned to leave when the spiked heel of one of her shoe's caught in the that damned loose throw rug, she gave out a loud scream of surprise and fear as she was pulled suddenly to the side, and thrown down atop the glass table next to the door. The sound of shattering glass reached my ears about the same time I realized Amber had fallen. I should have had that fucking throw rug removed. But, after that first week I'd gotten used to walking on it and never had another near spill. And for some reason, I sometimes liked to stare at it, becoming mesmerized, while I sat at my desk. I stared in disbelief for a never ending instant of time before I reacted. Initially, and by reflex, I ran to catch her, but it was all over but for the bleeding. Amber looked like she was bleeding out on my office floor, there was so much blood. I attempted to render first aid as best as I could. Her left arm had a long nasty looking gash that was spraying blood everywhere. She lay in a heap on the floor, glass all about her, unmoving. For a moment I thought Amber was dead, and for even a briefer moment, I felt extreme satisfaction. However, I'm not a monster, so after that very brief emotional flash, feelings of concern arose, but I noticed the pulse in her neck beating under the skin and I was filled with relief. Yes, I hated the bitch, but I didn't wish death upon her. Not even on Shela. That would be too easy. I wanted them both to have long long lives and to suffer every day of their miserable lives. Amber was in shock, but she began to stir, then frantically tried to sit up, but I forced her back down. "Lay still, you silly bitch!" I yelled at her. Looking around for something to use as a tourniquet I saw nothing but my tie as it dangled down in front of me. Wincing at what I was about to do to it, I loosened it and without removing the knot, I widened the loop until it slipped over my head. I quickly slipped it up on Amber's arm, above the large cut, tightening it until the spray was reduced to nothing but a oozing trickle. Amber's facial complexion was extremely pale, almost grayish white. Her eyes were closed and her face had set into a tight lipped grimace of pain. Her long hair, until a few seconds ago, shining with a healthy luster, was now matted with her blood. Amber's body lay twitching, whether from pain or shock, I couldn't tell. I turned around looking for anything to use as a pressure bandage. I saw nothing within easy reach and I wasn't about to let go of my tie to go find a towel. Amber had lost too much blood already, and I feared any further loss would kill her immediately. I saw that Amber had worn a slip under a fashionable knee length skirt. She must be going French, since I didn't know of any American women that still wore a slip under their dresses and skirts. Although a slip wasn't made from the most ideal material to staunch a bleeding wound, it was something. I managed to hold the tie securely enough one-handed while I pulled on her slip. By this time, Amber had gone into unconsciousness, she was no longer fighting me. I kept yanking on it until it was past her knees. It wasn't much easier to ease it past her feet but somehow I managed. Alternating my hands, I was able to remove my suit jacket and then my shirt, without releasing my hold on the tourniquet. Using her slip and my dress shirt I somehow made a fairly decent pressure bandage. Soon, I had the bleeding stopped. Amber was as pale as a ghost but still breathing, even if they were slow shallow breaths. As soon as the bleeding stopped, I called 911, or in the EU's case, 112, on my cell phone. I also called building security to notify them of the arrival of my expected guests. Without a knock, my door burst open a few minutes later and several men and women in the uniforms of both medical emergency responders and police hustled in to take control. I explained as best as I could to the French emergency medical team what first aid I'd given, but they simply nodded, smiled, and pushed me aside. The police took me outside my office and began to question me. Although my French language skills had improved considerably, most of what I knew was related to French business terms, I wasn't conversant enough to explain to the police, as to what happened, in their language. Luckily, some of the police spoke English well enough they were able to understand me, and I them. I don't think they wholeheartedly believed my version of what happened, especially when they saw I had taken her slip off, but until they could speak to Amber, they couldn't charge me. Or, so I hoped. While I'd answered questions, the EMTs had managed to stabilize Amber and had taken her out in a gurney. I asked what hospital they were taking her to, and they replied The American Hospital in Paris, which coincidentally is the nearest hospital to my office building. About an hour after arriving, everyone left. My office was in shambles; discarded wrappers of medical supplies, pieces of broken glass, and much of the furniture had been shoved together to make a wide open space around where Amber had lain, and, of course, the blood. It coated one wall, some of the furniture, and a large area of the floor. My coat, shirt, and tie had been taking by the police, probably as evidence. I had a change of clothing in the bathroom of my office, but I'd have to move things around to reach it, and I didn't feel like it. There wasn't much point in resuming my work, so I gathered all work related materials off my desk and left. The walk home was no fun, as all I had on was a t-shirt and the temperature was very cool. I entered my home, shivering, and headed directly to the shower. That's when I noticed the cloying stickiness of my pants. My shoes were soaked with blood too, along with my socks. They were ruined. But, it didn't seem important. I didn't care that I had to throw away the shoes and clothing. After showering I placed my bloodied clothing and foot wear into a large plastic bag, instead of throwing them away –in case the police wanted those as well-- I sat down to think things through. Normally, I'm not a pensive man when it comes to personal issues, but too much had happened in too short a time not to at least throw some serious thought at it. It was near midnight when I reached two important decisions. First thing, I would check on Amber in the morning, offering what help I could to her. I'm sure she wouldn't be able to sight see, much less travel home over the next few days. And, as I was sure she was limited in funds, I would help pay her hospital bill and aid in deferring the cost of her hotel room. Second thing, I might also contact Shela, and...Well, I'm not sure what would happen, but I'd listen to what she had to say. I did say I wasn't a monster. I was just a very pissed off man. The following day, after making an appearance at the office, deflecting most questions about what had occurred, and calling in someone to come and clean up, I headed to the hospital. I hate hospitals. I don't care if this one is in Paris, I still hated them. So in a less than chipper mood, I asked for Amber's room and walked to it. The room door was open, so I stood in the hallway looking in. Her eyes were closed and for the first time I saw her without make-up and I have to say, she was better looking without face paint than with it. She had a pleasingly wholesome look, and she also looked less like the she-devil she is and more like a sweet angel that she wasn't. Her auburn hair had been cleaned but it lay around her head on the pillow in a wild mass of unruliness. Her injured arm was in one those fiber-plastic casts, while her other arm was strapped to a flat board and had two clear surgical tubes leading out from it, running to two hanging bags, also translucent, showing them partially filled with fluids. There were a couple of monitors next to the bed, with wires leading to Amber's gown covered chest and uninjured arm. I was about to step back, to return later when she was awake, but I must have made some sound, or maybe it was that damnable sixth sense that women seem to have, but whatever it was, she opened her eyes and stared right at me. She made no sign that she was aware of my presence and I had this passing thought that she might have suffered too high a blood loss and her brain was now a vegetable. I'd read that some where and at the time, I didn't think it possible. If someone lost that much blood to damage the brain, they'd be dead anyway. Now, her blank look seemed to... "What are you doing here?" Amber asked without expression. "I came to check on you." I replied in the same deadpan way. She continued to look at me, like a Alabama 'gator does when it's sizing up a meal. Her gaze was a cold detached stare that for some reason had me a bit nervous. She finally turned her face and stared off into the distance. "Now that you've seen me like this, have you had your fill of gloating?" Amber asked in the same tone as if she had been asking about the weather. I shook my head in disbelief at her response. There I was, trying to make nice and she has to start up her shit. "I'm not gloating, but I will leave if that's what you want." I said as I made to walk away. I still hadn't entered her room. I got a couple of feet away before I heard her say, "No! Stay! I mean- Stay if you want to." I stepped back into the doorway. "Are you sure? I don't want to upset you and I can see you're still in pain." She had a slight frown on her face. "I'm sure. I- I don't want to be alone. Will you please stay?" That was a startling revelation, and since she was acting so unlike her usual self, I grew a bit more curious as to what had caused her change. "Okay. I'll stay as long as I can. Can I get you anything?" She smiled weakly, saying,"Yes. You can get me out of here." I smiled in return, or at least I thought I did, but I wasn't sure after I saw her expression change to blankness again. "Joe..." she began, but stopped. I just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "Joe- I have to say this. I really do. And- Well... After what happened to me last night, I've decided I didn't like the person I am." She glanced at me, expecting some smart remark, but when I kept my mouth firmly shut, she continued. "I thought I was dead when I saw all the blood coming out of me. I saw you move toward me and...Please, Joe, come in and sit down. I don't want half the hospital listening." I shook myself out of my stupor, feeling like I'd been in some sort of trance up until that point. Amber's change of attitude had really thrown me off-step. I walked in and sat down in the chair that was next to Amber's bed. She looked steadily at me, as I looked back at her. "You really don't like me, do you?" she asked. Considering her question for a moment, I shook my head in the negative. Deciding to be truthful, I replied, "It's not as simple as that, Amber. I don't like what you've been doing to me and Shela all the years we've been married. You've been a major contention more often than not, and it's made things very difficult between myself and Shela. I don't know what you think I've done to you, but apparently you believe I've wronged you somehow. So, two things...I don't like how you've interfered in my life with Shela, and I don't like you as a person because of that." Amber turned away from me, but before she did, I thought I saw her eyes glistening. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I didn't mean to butt in. But..." she began. I waited a few seconds for her to continue, and when she didn't, I prompted her. "But...What?" She turned to face me again, but for whatever reason she couldn't hold her gaze and dropped it. She looked down. She started to say something a couple of times, before she looked at me with tears in her eyes. "I don't know how to say this. I guess the best way to say it is straight out." Taking a breath, Amber continued. "I thought you were going to break Shela's heart. I thought you were going to cheat on her." Seeing my sudden anger, she said somewhat soothingly, before looking away again. "I know. You've been true blue. I know that. Now. I didn't before. But, I seriously thought you would." Her gaze swung back to me. I saw such intensity in her eyes that it reminded me of the blinding beam of a light house piercing the dark of the night. "Joe, I need you to listen to me. What Shela did to you is my fault. Not Shela's! I'm not saying this because she's my friend. I'm saying it because it's true. I made a horrible mistake and Shela was caught up in it, which then made you a part of it. If it hadn't been for my mistake she would have never done- uh- what she did. I need you to believe what I'm saying. Please! Joe!" I sat back at Amber's words. I didn't give a shit why Shela fucked around on me. The fact is she did. It was now obvious Shela thought I'd cheated on her, and thought she was getting revenge on me. It was also apparent, one of those two dodo bird brained women somehow figured out it was a mistake. Some mistake! But, what Shela did is unforgivable, in my book. "I see. Well, Amber, as I now understand it- when Shela thought I cheated on her- " I held up my hand to ward off Shela's response, "She went out and fucked some asshole then sent me the video of her betrayal. Now, that she's come to realize your mistake, she sent you to intercede on her behalf. To explain that it was nothing but a misunderstanding on her part. And that she wants forgiveness and for us to work through this little mistake of hers. To become a couple again. Is that right?" I didn't scream. I didn't yell. I didn't even slightly raise my voice, yet, Amber flinched at each of my points. Rather than vocalize her answer, Amber nodded. "So, why is it when she thought I was cheating on her, she didn't give me the same consideration that she is now asking of me? Oh, that's right...She made a mistake, based on your mistake. So everything is supposed to be honky dory now."