60 comments/ 53860 views/ 12 favorites Susan's Sales Meeting By: chilleywilley She stood like a Naked Valkyrie Brandishing Her Trophy Please note: Agatha Christie, as far as I know, despite her writings about murder was not herself a murderer, nor did she hope to inspire persons to commit murder. Like her stuff, this is fiction. These are not real people. Hopefully it's good entertainment. I would like to thank Cabolover for editing this story. It is better for his efforts * I'm a general contractor specializing in building custom homes, and old house restoration. My reputation is for knowing craftsmanship and the people who can do fine work. I use to do a lot of it myself, but being boss pays better. Even if I don't so much do physical work on the job sites anymore, my home is different matter. I have a problem hiring people to work on my own house, so I end up doing nearly all of it myself. Anyway, my job of general contractor/design consultant is fun, rarely requires overnight travel, and has resulted in me having time to do most of the cooking at home, which I enjoy, and being there for my two daughters. After struggling for some years in various capacities as a lower level peon in Internet advertising, Wifey took time off to raise our two children. It was tough for her not having many adult conversations during the day, but when the youngest started first grade, she started looking for work. It was spirit crushing, sending out resumes, and hardly ever getting even an acknowledgment. It took almost a year to find what she was looking for. She got a job with a small food company, Great Gherkins It's a 'Jewish' deli wholesale supply company, run by a couple of Scandinavians who are as close to being Jewish as I am a relative of Paris Hilton. To say she loved her job would be an understatement. She apparently breathed new life into the company, and while she worked hard, she was changing the way they did business and happy as a clam at the same time. She was eager to get to work in the morning, and come home after a ten-hour day dead tired, but humming a tune. Her laughter filled my life. Promotions came, one after the other, and she began to travel quite a lot. We started with her emailing her full itinerary, the whole package so we knew where she was, hotel, car rental, etc. I made it a geography lesson with the girls, and taught them phone skills, calling the hotels and connecting with Mommy through the desk clerk. On the second or third trip, I forget which; she came back from San Francisco with presents for the children. She was clearly exhausted, so after supper, I gave the girls their bath, and came down to interrupt her from her computer. "Story time." She heaved a sigh, and asked; "Would you put them to bed and read them their story. I have to catch up on my e-mails. ." "Of course. If they ask why Mommy isn't reading their story now that she's home, how do you want me to answer them?" "What?" "Shall I tell them 'Mommy can't snuggle with them while she reads their story because she has to take care of her e-mails? Maybe you could suggest some other way to put it?" She looked stunned for a moment: "Chris! Thank you for the dope slap! I apologize and I'm embarrassed that I needed one." She called upstairs: "Are you ready? Teeth brushed? Here I come!" Childish giggles echoed down the stairs. Half an hour later she came down stairs, and I handed her a glass of wine. "You feel guilty about leaving them?" "Yes I do. It hurts a lot. How did you know?" "Well, I guess I'd feel the same way, but in the future, and I am saying this with love and respect, don't bring home presents to assuage your guilt. You can't buy love, and I don't want to be the one who raises them and disciplines them all week, and have Santa Clause visit us on the weekends." "Humph! I guess I have to learn how to travel, don't I?" Yup. I can hold down the fort, as long as you come back to me. And while we're on the subject, I'd rather you do your company work on Saturday or Sunday during the day. Evenings are family time." We worked it out. While I would rather have her home more, frankly we both enjoy it. She gets away from the house and kids for a few days, and I get to spend time with my children. For example, this evening we had a grand time staying up past their bedtimes. They were filthy from playing all day and at bath time; there was a gentle summer rain. I joked: "You guys are too dirty to put in the bathtub! I'll never get the tub clean" "We have to have a bath, dad! What else could we do?" "You should go outside in the rain and rinse off!" "We can't go outside without our cloths on!" "Of course not gooses, you need to wear your underpants!" With a shout of glee, the three of us ran around outside into the rain, jumping and rolling in wet grass and mud puddles, with no one getting upset. We were laughing and having a good time, while the wife was in Miami sweating bullets in the heat. About a month later, in the dog days of August, I noticed the joy seemed to have gone out of her work. I asked her about it, and whereas she usually told me endlessly long stories about work, she simply said the going is getting tough right now, some people were opposing her, but she had it under control and heads would roll. I felt sorry for anyone on her wrong side. Her sister once observed that even as a kid, anyone who was between Susan and what she wanted was in trouble. She was right. Susan will go after what she wants with single minded devotion, no holds barred. She would let nothing and I mean nothing get in her way. If she wanted it she was driven to get it! This September there was a big deal sort of trip. She was going to her company's sales meeting over on the New Jersey shore, in Absecon, and her presentation was the key to the corporation's new marketing strategy. I figured the stress and tension about the program she was introducing was the reason for her tense behavior at home. The company had been sliding down the tubes for years, and the wife had studied the problem, laid out a plan to a few executives and they loved it...grabbed it like the life preserver it was. Trial implementation in one market area had resulted in a significant upturn in both sales and profits. This presentation was hers and hers alone, and won her promotion to marketing VP even though some asshole was trying unsuccessfully to claim the credit. She'd been working on it for weeks and was justly proud of it. Great Gherkin is also, by necessity, a cheap company, so the sales meeting was at a vacation hotel in the off season, started at 2 PM Sunday, and ended Tuesday at 3 pm. These hours ensure the employees mostly travel on their own time. In fairness, as I said, the company's been doing poorly and needs to hold down costs. From what the wife says, extending her marketing program across the board and the departure of a couple of managers is their principle hope for turning the company around. She may be exaggerating a bit, but probably not much. Absecon New Jersey is only a couple of hours away for us, so she was hitching a ride with a couple of her co workers. Most of the other people were flying in from all over. For once, the kids were spending the weekend at my's house, and we had the prospect of a suitably romantic Saturday night. Sunday I was going to work on the room addition I'm putting on the house and then pick up my daughters just before bedtime Sunday evening. It didn't happen. That night she had stomach cramps and diarrhea which ended the romance part before it began, she was up half the night and the next morning vomiting. She had been stressed to the max; the turnaround had put an enormous strain on her these last few weeks. She looked terrible that morning, but insisted it was just nerves and was going to the conference anyway. At 11 AM her ride pulled up in front and tooted their horn, I kissed her goodbye, carried her suitcase to the car, told the driver, Natalie, to drive carefully, and sent her on her way. I put in a long day's labor skipping lunch in favor of an early supper. Knocked off work at about 4:30 took a shower to loosen myself up a little and made supper. I figured I would put in another hour or two until 8:30 PM, when by general neighborhood agreement, we minimize the noise, and more importantly I had to pick up the kids. The shower relaxed me and I dressed to do some more work, but made the mistake of sitting down with the Sunday paper and a glass of wine. My heart wasn't into work, so I sat at the computer checked e-mails; read a few stories like this one, before I noticed there was a flash drive in the USB port. I opened it out of curiosity, and to my surprise found the final version of my Wife's meeting presentation that she was giving tomorrow morning. Shit! It had been saved about 10 minutes before she left this morning. I looked to see if she had left anything else, and saw nothing but a copy of the agenda, hotel directions and so forth. I tried to e-mail it to her work account, but the file was too big for their server. Another example of Great Gherkin's cost cutting business philosophy, or my inability to figure out how to compress it, whichever. I called Wifey to see if she knew a way to compress it, but her cell was off, and she didn't answer her room phone, but then again, it was early. Generally, management starts right after supper by blowing smoke up the peasant's collective asses until 9 or so, when people are ready to sleep in their chairs, or walk out. Their reward for putting up with the bullshit is usually an open bar, munchies, and lightly organized activities. If I left now, I'd get there about 10:00, and get back here at midnight, which left me a little short of sleep, but I'm not anal about that. I called the folks to see if they could stop by, pick up clothes for the girls and get them to school Monday morning. With an OK and their blessing, I put on a corduroy sport coat to dress up my boots, clean jeans, and work shirt. Sort of an LL Bean look, but modified to suit people who do real work. Off into the dark and gloomy night I drove, to rescue a damsel in distress, a knight in shining armor/amour. Driving in the dark is boring; the radio was no comfort because NPR was in the middle of a pledge drive. But a stiff wind was rising and about an hour into the drive it began blowing rainsqualls that shook the car and caused the vans I was passing to swerve out of their lane. It got worse as I got closer to the shore. The wind continued to pick up until I was gripping the wheel with both hands...I shut off the CD player because it was a distraction I couldn't afford. Towards the end I was down to 45 mph because the wind gusts were jerking the car over a foot or two before I could correct the steering. There were downed branches in the road, but only street flooding. Fortunately I was about the only idiot driving in this mess. I pulled up in front of the hotel about 10:15. No rain at the moment, but the wind was remarkable, rattling a piece of flashing that had pulled loose on the port chere's roof. I went to the desk, told 'em I left the key and the little envelope in the room, who I was, an' flashed my ID. They gave me a key in another little envelope with the room number on it, no questions asked. I headed for the stairs, actually a staircase right there in the lobby, leading up to a balcony overlooking the registration desk. I could see the number on her door right at the head of these rather formal stairs. Two of her coworkers came over to me as I started up. I recognized one of them as the one who drove the car. Natalie gushed: "Oh Chris, what are you doing here? Does Karen know your coming? Don't let the bosses see you. We're not supposed to have spouses with us, not good for group moral and all that." "Karen saved her presentation on a thumb drive but left it home. I thought she'd need it for tomorrow morning, so I'm just dropping it off. I'd like to stay, but alas, I've got to get to work in the morning. I'm driving back tonight." Holding out her hand, Natalie scrambled up the stairs ahead of me "Here, let me take it to her... so she won't get into trouble...for having her husband here..., OK?" The other woman, the one I didn't know, had her cell phone out and was madly text messaging. Why they do that shit is beyond me. "Gee thanks, but it's no trouble, what the hell, I've come all this way, got the key, and her room is right up there at the head of the stairs. Might as well take credit for the efforts I've made on her behalf." Something was odd about them, they seemed nervous or something...what the hell. I passed Natalie and went up the stairs two at a time, as I said, her door was right there, stuck the card in, green light and a soft click, and walked in. Son of a bitch! Some punter was screwing Wifey missionary style on the bed. I didn't stand around gawking, but my impression was it was pretty uninspired screwing. I walked quietly up to the fuckers (literally)... and with what little karate training I had gotten in six months of attending kid karate with my oldest daughter, it would be a bit of an awkward kick, but I took my time to line up the shot, the adrenalin was raging. I gave him one hell of a round house kick just above the balls with my boot. Didn't want to strike lower and risk messing up a woman. Sensei Burns would have been proud! He screamed as the kick shoved him up and forward, onto her belly, so his dick was yanked out of Wifey's hole. She squealed at the pain in her crotch, or maybe because he slipped off his elbows and collapsed on top of her or maybe both. He was trying to curl up and hold his nuts, which he couldn't very well do because he was lying between her legs. I noticed he was hairy like a fucking animal. He might have been an athlete years ago...still looked good from a distance, but up close you can see his muscles have turned to shit. I grabbed his ankles, and gave a hell of a jerk, dragging him down off the wife, pulling him hard across the bed. Dropped him face first onto the floor, where he fell with a bang and ground his nose into the rug. His legs were apart on either side of me. I was gripping an ankle in each hand, making it easier for me to deliver a second kick right on his balls this time, getting another scream out him He tried to protect his balls with both hands, but that left his face unprotected, dragging across the rug. He was heavy, but not struggling much so...I managed to start moving at a pretty good clip when I heard the wife, and looked up to see she was standing naked on the bed, and had begun hollering: THANK GOD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD COCKSUCKING ASSHOLE! MAY YOU DIE IN THE GUTTER AND ROT IN HELL! YOU SHIT EATING ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKER SON OF A BITCH..." My adrenalin level was given an additional shot from her cursing! For god's sake the cheating cunt was coming after ME!!!...Calling me every name in the book!!!! What the hell did she expect? She jumped off the bed and in two leaping strides reached us and began attacking her lover with a vengeance, kicking and stomping with more vigor than effectiveness at his head and shoulders. It was a moving target for her as I was still pulling him across the rug to the door as fast as I could, so it didn't look like she was doing much damage. Of course it wasn't me she was kicking, either. I had to stop to get the door open, and as his hands were clutching his balls, his head became a prime target of the wife's kicks. She hit the side of his face two or three times with the heel of her foot. He ducked and brought his arms up to shield himself, but made the mistake of momentarily leaving one of his hands on the floor, whereupon she stamped her heel on it with a CRUNCH...of broken bones, and a shriek from Asshole. As I held the door with my shoulder, he started struggling again, so I gave a heave and paused to give his balls another kick. He let out a groan and went quiet. I gave him a hell of a jerk to get him moving again, but he got hung up on the edge of the door, scraping the hell out of his side. Meanwhile, the wife was making a god awful racket hollering and cursing right behind us. He was just a dead weight now, not struggling at all so I could lean into my task without worrying that he would wiggle out of my grip. Across the hall to the head of the stairs, I paused because I was below him. I pivoted him around in preparation for kicking him down the stairs. The wife continued to spew invectives at him, stomping on whatever targets of opportunity he offered. She was fully visible to everyone in the lobby now, and I realized there were a lot of them down there gathered at the bottom of the stairs. They were certainly getting an eyeful. If she noticed them, she didn't give any sign of it. When I dropped his feet at the edge of the stairs, he obligingly curled into a defensive ball to protect his nuts from me and his head from her. This made it easier to get him rolling down the stairs. I gave his ribs a good kick-shove to get him started down the stairs, as my naked wife pushed past me pursuing her attack. He tumbled over and over at a good clip. He was still conscious because he was flailing about trying unsuccessfully to stop his roll, groaning with the odd cry when something tender was struck. He came to a stop on the landing half way down sprawled on his back. His face was a mess, blood on his nose, mouth and the side of his head. Wifey ran down the steps two at a time after him, oblivious to the pain in her jouncing breasts, and was on him before he stopped, driving her heels into his face, neck and shoulders. He was still clutching his balls. Blood was dribbling from parts of his face and head, and gushing from his nose. His body had a long bloody abrasion down the side, and some of the fingers on the one hand were at a funny angle. The two women onlookers who saw me go up the stairs were now fifteen or so, with more people streaming out of the bar to see what was causing the commotion. Priceless! What they saw were two naked people, one beating the shit out of the other. I'd like to see ESPN try to do a spectacle better than this one! One onlooker was slack jawed in shock; another gave me the thumbs up. People were cheering her on, while the rest were fiddling with their cell phones, taking pictures or just gawking. She bent down, gouged his eye socket, drawing more blood, grabbed his hair and yanked! His head jerked up and fell right back down with a thud. Jesus and Mary... if she didn't scalp the poor bastard right there on the stairs! She stood like a naked Valkyrie brandishing her trophy, pausing in triumph, and then threw it into the crowd at the bottom of the stairs; most of whom had witnessed Asshole's and the wife's decent! The crowd screamed and jumped back as though a piece of road kill had been hurled at them. The asshole had a rug glued or woven to his head! Cell phones recorded every minute of their fame, such as it was. It would be on U tube in a few minutes. The commotion was bringing more and more people into the lobby, and I could see the wife frozen in place, now realizing she was standing naked with tits, pussy and ass hanging out in front of a crowd of people that for the most part she knew quite well. I headed to her rescue as her fury was spent. She was obviously paralyzed with shock. I reached her and put my arm firmly around her waist, gently turning her around and murmured: "Your arm goes around me, Love! We will climb these stairs together...come on... slowly, head high full of dignity and pride. Head up, now, that's good! That's good! Know that you are my strong and noble wife, mother of my children! The door's just ahead. Don't rush, here we are...give me a second; I've got the key right here." Susan's Sales Meeting All true that noble wife bit, at least until I sort all this shit out. I opened the door to the room guiding her in, and turned back to the crowd and called out: "Somebody call the police! That fool and my wife have been assaulted and may be injured!" They were still as ghosts. "You heard me! MOVE!" It was the desk clerk who answered 'yes sir!' and picked up the phone. Funny the stuff you remember. Her sex partner was ugly, at least to my eye, but his fingers and toenails were professionally polished. Susan broke through my thoughts. "Chris I'm sorry, he made me...Oh god I'm really sorry" "Get dressed in clean cloths; don't wash yourself or anything else. Come on..." She was still in shock "Move! Do it! NOW!" "We're going to have police for company in a few minutes whether we like it or not" She jumped like I'd hit her. I gathered up the pudgy asshole's clothes, opened the window, and checked all of his pockets as I threw his shit out into the wind... sox, pants, piece by piece. I slipped all of his keys off the ring, and flung them one by one in different directions as far as I could. There happened to be a pickup truck parked right under the window, and with great care, and some luck, I tossed his car key into the truck bed. Black key on a black plastic bed liner...they'd never fine it. Same with his wallet, I dumped the contents on the table. I got out my Leatherman® tool and sliced and diced the lot, scattering the bits into the wind. One after the other, they disappeared into the storm. I sliced his shoes with the knife and tossed them as well. One of them landed on a ledge the other in a bush. I took a deep breath, and called 911 and reported an assault and possible rape, with an injured man. I gave them my name, room number, and the location of the motel. Wifey was just dressed when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to a guy in an Armani shirt, and $400 loafers. "Are you the police?" Ah, No. I'm Harald Abrmsen, Great Gherkins President, may I come in?" "Are you responsible for the actions of the chap on the stairs?" "He is my employee..." "Let me repeat my question; are you fully and financially responsible for his actions?" "Why, no, but...I'm an officer with..." "Well Boss Swede, right now it's an officer with the police I want, so this has nothing to do with you." With that, I shut the door in his face and turned to the woman who in the future I probably would refer to as my first wife. "Now love, in the five minutes or so we have before the police arrive, how did you get to this point?" "I wish you hadn't called the police, now everybody will know what happened. " "Jesus H. Christ, women you work with knew he was in here and tried to stop me from coming to your room! A few moments ago, I dragged a groaning...screaming....naked man from your cunt, who was clutching his balls, bleeding profusely from the nose and face into the hall. YOU were there equally naked, chasing him down the stairs kicking and shrieking invectives at him. You ripped off his hairpiece like a trophy and scaled it to your coworkers as a remembrance of the event. They had and were taking pictures and video on their cell phones the whole god damn time! Witnesses up the ass... probably uploading to U tube as we speak. "Chris, I'm so scared! He was...this was the third time he forced me to...to...It was horrible. God! I'm so...so sorry." Let's skip to his name, his title, and how it happened that 'He made you do it.' That's the important bit right now." "Helmut Eriksson, he's Assistant Managing Director. He's not Swedish; he's a Dane...he's the one who was claiming credit for my work! I hate the son of a bitch! I hate him!" "You hate him, but you peacefully fucked him on your bed. No guns, knives... no burses on you...Look we don't have time to get into it now anyway. I was the one that couldn't go into that now. The sight of them was reverberating in my mind. I needed the distraction of the police to keep from breaking down. With a sniffle: "Well then, looking to the immediate future, I assume you are going to file a sexual harassment suit?" "I can't! They'll fire me." "Jesus, you have drunk the Kool-Aid? It's OK for them to work you to death, rape you, take the credit for your work... and you want to go back for more? So what are you saying? I'm the bad guy? You were having fun tonight and I'm the one who pissed on your head? Fucked up your party? Look you dumb cunt, you want me out of here? I'm so out of here! But I'll tell you, They want you out of Great Gherkin. That's probably a done deal. You think you're going to stand up and give the marketing address tomorrow morning after what happened tonight? You really think they're going to put you up at the podium after tonight's show? I'll tell you what they're going to do. Say sweet things to you, plant wet kissed in your ear. Give you a week or two off...as compassionate leave or some such bullshit while they do damage control...clear yours and his e mails of anything that suggests the fucking was coerced. Then they'll fire your ass and offer you a severance package, say six months pay and cobra benefits in exchange for an agreement not to sue. If you've got grounds to prove coercion, you better go for it; you're going to need the money. Tonight will not look good on your resume. Give me your laptop and the e-mail passwords, I'll copy stuff to a flash drive while you get your story straight in your head." "No! I can't." "Why not?" "I just can't." "What the fuck else are you trying to hide now? That you've been fucking him for months? What else is there? Who else is there? Shit! Never mind, we don't have time to get into it now." "If you don't let me help you, instead of us against them...it'll be you against them! Shut me out and I'll head on home and see you when you come to visit." "What?" "You got shit stuck in your ears? Either it's you and me against the world, fighting for your best interest, or it'll be you and...maybe your mother fighting for your best interests. Your choice! I'll not stay where I am not both trusted and wanted." "But... some of those e mails...I don't want you to see them!" Flashing lights outside the window caught my eye. The cops were here. "OK. The first of the first responders are here and you've made your choice! You're on your own! Helmut fucked you, and now Great Gherkin will fuck you as well. I'll meet the police downstairs and go on home when they're done with me. You have fun and enjoy the rest of the sales meeting! Maybe Boss Swede will be interested in fucking you too. Hell, do a good job on him and you'll get another of your fucking promotions!" Her face would have done justice to a Greek tragedy; it was contorted into a wretched grimace that broke into tears. "1600 Pennsylvania!" "What? The fuckin' White House?" "My pass word, 1600pennsylvania. No capitals. Open Outlook, look under jobs, Local, Sheissekophf. That's where I filed the e-mails concerning the bastard. . You copy them while I go downstairs and try to stall them." It didn't take long; I downloaded it onto the same flash drive I used for her presentation. I had plenty of room on it to copy her contacts folder as well. Still no one at the door, and more room on the drive, I down loaded the Projects folder in her e mail account too. That filled the flash stick No time to spare. There was a hole in the lining of the right pocket of my sport coat, so I slipped the drive in there, and slid it around to the seam in front where it would escape anything short of a Secret Service pat down. I didn't think anyone would search me, but it cost nothing to be defensive. She evidently couldn't stall them much, maybe 5 or 8 minutes 'cause I just put her computer back in the case when they knocked on the door and ordered all inside to come out. "Yes sir. I am unarmed, nothing in my hands. I mean no harm to anyone." They were professional and polite. Did I know of my wife's 'relationship' with him? My answers were the sad truth...I was clueless as to their real relationship until I walked into the room. I saw them and went berserk, and when I pulled him off of the wife, she attacked him as well. Evidently that agreed with what the wife said. They took her to a rape crisis center. When I asked to leave to go to the rape trauma center, one of the cops offered to lead the way there as it was a bit convoluted getting there with some roads closed. I went back to get her suitcase, put her computer in it, locked it in my truck and followed them. The storm was waning then, but there was trash, plastic pails, and lawn furniture blowing around. With the wind groaning, trees bending, dodging downed branches, we finally got there OK. When I caught up with my wife, she wanted to talk about her sins when we were alone in the hospital. But I figured it wasn't the time and we had more immediate things to talk about. We needed to plan for tomorrow morning. Boss Swede called her cell to tell her to take the week off as compassionate leave. He also wanted to know where Helmut's clothing was, and she told him she didn't know, and to look around. When she snapped her phone shut I asked: "If there's anything at work you need or want, tonight is probably the only time you can get in there without an escort." "Chris, they wouldn't do that! They need me!" "Humph! We'll see about that, nobody's irreplaceable; it really depends on how badly they want you gone. Anyway, we're planning for the worst here. Tomorrow your key code may not work. Any files you even think you might ever need, get'em now." She was in denial. There was nothing at the office she couldn't down load from any Internet connection. Everything was on a computer in the clouds, and she was able to down load stuff on to her computer as we sat in the trauma center. Ain't technology great! We got home at 3 AM. She had a noticeable bruise on her mons as the kick I gave to Helmut's asshole carried through to her crotch, and then when his dick was violently ripped out of her cunt it caused some modest damage to her vagina. From that evidence they concluded that the intercourse was forced. She knew nothing about the first kick I gave him. Whatever, the hospital had given her a sedative that had her drifting from unconscious to incoherent. I had to half carry her up to bed. I tried to sleep, but it was hopeless. My stomach was in turmoil, I shit my brains out! What the hell was I going to do? I stuck the flash drive in our computer and reluctantly opened the file. It was bad, but it could have been worse. In the verbal run up to the fucking, she started out pushing him back, telling him no, she was married, and all that, but not threatening to report him! The e-mails were also filled with friendly notes and praise from Helmut. Frankly it looked more like old fashion seduction. Until a month and a half ago when coincidently there was a series of discussions of a big promotion coming, more money, staff, visibility, but she wasn't seen as part of the family. Family connections were important. Of course family meant Great Gherkin, not me and the kids. She needed to prove to management, meaning him, that she was on board and serious about the company. The next day he sent the email that nailed him. He told her that Abrmsen wanted her gone to make way for a guy he use to work with in the home office. Helmut, on the other hand, wanted to expand her job scope, promoting her and bumping her to a higher pay grade. However, bucking Abrmsen was risky for him, and she had to prove to him it was worth the risk. They would have a long lunch at the Hilton, and map out their strategy in private. In my limited knowledge of woman, they rarely say no when they mean yes. It's usually the other way round. They say yes with a qualifier when they mean no. Here she didn't say no, but suggested that this was a bad week, but maybe some time next week. Evidently it didn't get postponed. Later that day Helmut e mail gushed his appreciation for my wife's sexual delights. In response she claimed she had little memory of anything after the one glass of wine they had at lunch, and that whatever happened was not welcome! She told him that there would be no repeat of that afternoon. He responded that he 'strongly supported her for the new position under him!' Great choice of words. He continued the charm offensive, apparently with limited success. The second time he got between her legs, at least in the e-mails, she sounded very reluctant. He got her acquiescence, so I suppose it was consent. She got the promotion the very next day, so it looked like a quid pro quo. I wonder who else she fucked to get ahead. A week later she flatly refused him then and forever more, which lead up to last night. Helmut was upbeat about the fucking,' it was fantastic, she was great... or that could have been bullshit. Well, other than Helmut's version that it was wonderful, there was nothing to show she enjoyed it or gave him encouragement, or in any way welcomed the screwing she got. Or clever girl that she is, she was more discrete. It could certainly have been much worse. I shut the computer down, and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up at some point, and saw my wife curled up on the floor beside me wrapped in a blanket. I quietly stepped over her, tiptoed into the bedroom and went back to sleep. It was light when I stirred as she climbed into bed. Later that morning I called a lawyer I'd heard of and got a 1 PM appointment. I sent her their e-mails from the flash drive that I had copied at the motel, along with the trauma center contact information. I figured she'd need some sort of background. I checked Wifey's new e-mails on her computer. Several people had sent the wife photos of the attack on the stairs and I forwarded those as well. I told her divorce and a sexual harassment suit were on the table. When the wife came down to breakfast, she bent to give me a good morning kiss, just a buss, a brush of the lips, and I told her about our appointment. She started crying, fell to her knees at my feet, put her head in my lap and hugged my knees. No, it was not an erotic head in the lap; it was the gesture of a human in pain and in need of comfort. "Get up, and sit on my lap. Come here." Like a child in pain, she straddled me to maximize contact, wrapped both arms around me, clinging tight and had a good cry. When it subsided, she said: "Please don't turn me away. I've done a really stupid thing for which I can't forgive myself, much less ask you to forgive me. I need you, I love you and I will not let you leave me. Not now, not ever! Like Rachel, Where ever you go, I will follow you. I will be by your side always." "I wish you had...ah shit! It's hard isn't it! When I saw him on top of you, fucking you, I died inside. Felt like someone put a knife in my heart. The e-mails say it was in exchange for the promotion. Did you prostitute yourself to get ahead? Do you love him, and last night's show, was that for my benefit because you got caught?" So you could try and lie your way out of it? "No! No! No! Chris, none of that. I hate the bastard. I wish I had killed him. Oh please, I'm begging you! I'll do anything! I need your help. I can't get through this by myself. I need you. Don't let go of me! I'll do what ever it takes. We...we can make it, just let's get through the next few days and take it one day at a time. The long term? In the long term we and our children will die. Let's meet this day and let tomorrow take care of itself." The last bit sounded a little odd...well she was over wrought. "Right! So just so I understand, how did it happen that I found you in bed with a man you hated? Tell me. I want to believe you." "I was under a lot of pressure. I knew what I needed to do to turn the company around, and I was going to do it. I was half way there when Helmut latched on to me. He praised me up and down, but then obstructed me behind my back. I finely went to Abramsen and convinced him Helmut was a problem. I don't know what happened the first time, I got no sleep the night before, I was in the office at 5 AM, and we went to a late lunch, with one glass of wine. I can't say he drugged me, maybe I collapsed, I don't know. I woke up at 3 in the afternoon, naked in a hotel room in town, and no idea how I got there. Helmut claimed I was willing. Bullshit! The second time, in Baltimore, he pushed his way into my room, threatened to scuttle the project; I told him go ahead and try, It wouldn't stop me. He got really mad, like nutty, and grabbed my arms, twisting them and holding them behind me, with one hand, and began feeling me up. Now I'm telling you everything, I was on the rag and begged him not to rape me. I know you think this is stupid. He demanded a blowjob; I asked him how he knew I wouldn't bite? He settled for a hand job. It was disgusting. What a shit! And I can't believe I was negotiating with a rapist Helmut wasn't supposed to know he was getting fired Wednesday. Somehow he found out, and when I went up to my room after dinner, he pushed his way in behind me. He blamed me for him losing his job and demanded revenge sex or he would beat my face until my mother wouldn't know me. He pulled out a thing the size of a TV remote with two prongs, and said it was a tazer. One zap and I would be paralyzed in agony. When I went for the phone he jumped me. I couldn't shake him; he was pressing a finger into me right here behind my collar bone, and it hurt like hell. I was paralyzed, with fear, something inside me just shut down. I did the minimum I had to do, and endured the rape. My mind was...was mentally in a little cave inside me, in a shell, like in a storm shelter waiting out the tornado roaring through the house, ripping everything up. Suddenly he screamed and jumped on me, I got a stabbing pain in my groin! I opened my eyes and saw you, like a samurai warrior dragging that piece of shit off of me. Honestly, my mind was still in the little box in my head. Something else took over, I reacted, and I wasn't in control. I mean I could see what I was doing, but, like...like it wasn't me. Of course, when I came to, I was standing there bare ass naked, in front of the whole company, it was like a nightmare. But it still didn't feel real. You guided me back, but I had no shame or fear... Well, that came soon enough, didn't it? So that's what happened. I should have reported the first incident, but I didn't. I'm sorry, so sorry; thank god it's over and done with. Can you get...can we get by this?" "This is the truth, the whole truth?" "It is". "Well, it would have been much easier for me it there was some signs of struggle last night. I didn't see any tazer in the room, but I admit it could have been kicked out of sight, and I wasn't looking for it. The bruise on your groin was from me kicking your lover in the ass and balls. I'm sorry you got hurt, but I didn't mean to hit you. The tear to your vagina was probably his cock being ripped out from being pushed forward hen I kicked him. So the injuries the rape center found were from my actions, not his." "Call the police; see if they have the tazer." "Abrmsen searched the room looking for asshole's clothes. If it was there, he would have found it. What you said about the second incident? Doesn't jive with the e-mails. The day after you got the promotion, Helmut was praising you about how great the sex was. He said 'you where fantastic, it was great!' Are you telling me he was praising a hand job? Overall, it looked to me like an old fashion seduction; he praises you three ways to Sunday. That first time you go past countless restaurants to eat at the Hilton? A restaurant so bad they have to sell rooms upstairs to stay in business? What were you thinking? That should have been a red flag! Susan's Sales Meeting And not to report it...or tell me, your husband! You knew better than that! At the conference, Natalie knew what was going on in your room. She tried to stop me from going there." "Chris, no! Please believe me! She may have seen him go in, but had no idea of...what happened. Most people are afraid of Helmut; he really would pitch a fit if any of the company rules are flaunted. As to his e mail...it was just a hand job I swear..., please believe me! Helmut is a nut case, he can't admit failure! That's one of the reasons we had to get rid of him. He turns a project to shit and pretends he saved it from plunging deeper into the red. I've told you the truth, so help me god!" I diddled him with my hand, it was disgusting....I was scared...terrified." "I don't know Susan... if you were so frightened and scared why didn't you report him? I mean he was dangerous. Certainly you had to realize if he didn't get what he wanted that time because of your period or whatever, and then he would try again. You were upset, sick and vomiting Saturday night before you left? Were you afraid he might try something? I mean if so... you allowed it to happen. You could have put a stop to it sooner, but you didn't. Oh Chris I am so sorry, yes I know I should have. Even more so after the first time. I didn't want to cause a problem for the company and I thought I could handle him. He was getting fired because he was incompetent. In my head, I didn't want Abramson to think I wanted him fired out of revenge. I was terribly wrong and I am so sorry I caused all this pain myself. I will have to live with my actions...and inactions for the rest of my life. For that I am so sorry and please give me a chance, I love you and only you. I can't bear to think I could loose you or the kids Well, I, for one, certainly need time. I'm struggling to understand. The thing that helps me is that I do think your reaction when I came in the door was real. Or you deserve a fucking Oscar for talent I didn't know you had. You're.... you're a modest woman, and you'd never run naked down the stairs like that, especially in front of your co-workers. Never! I don't know. Let's give us some time. No hurry for decisions just now." This was a bit disingenuous of me. Wifey is very quick witted, which is one of the reasons I love being with her. She had time to work out her best argument, and I wasn't going to get anything out of her she didn't want to tell me. Part of me wondered if her reaction to seeing me that night was just the result of really quick thinking. Since he was leaving the company, he was disposable. It might have been casual sex, but if her marriage was threatened, she'd throw him under a bus in a heartbeat! Or do the same thing if it was under duress. The deed did not prove the motive! In my work I often research historic properties, some changes in the buildings you can see looking at the stone work. If there was a pent roof along here...a doorway there, you can see traces of it. To do a good job, you have to go back to contemporary sources, newspapers, estate inventories, paintings and old photographs, to see what was there and may now be gone without leaving a trace. I had her computer. If her work output was as good as she says, the promotions were earned at her desk, not on her back. If the direction came from others, consultants and such, then maybe she had less of a role. Research her work product! It was late, work for another day. The lawyer was good, I thought. She felt the wife had a clear case of sexual harassment and rape. The wife's story of Sunday night was that Helmut knocked on her door pushed his way in and assaulted her. The lawyer also said that it would be better for the lawsuit if we stayed married. I asked for a finder's fee if we introduced her to others with a similar situation within Great Gherkin Industries. We had a deal. Susan asked her about marriage counseling. Her answer and parting advice surprised me. "Not my expertise but let me tell you a story. My parents were in the boat people exodus from Cambodia. They suffered literally unspeakable horror. They never talk about it to this day. While not nearly as bad as them, you two have also suffered a trauma. This is quite likely the worst thing that has happened to either of you in your lifetime. You should understand you're both sitting here as victims, you've both been harmed. Susan was raped; the two of you are one in marriage, so Chris was raped as well. Counseling is good for some people, talk it to death, but my best advice is to try what worked for my folks. Return to the appearance of normalcy. Do with one another what you have always done. If you have date night on Friday, then you have date night this Friday. If it's sex during thunderstorms, and there is a thunder storm, sex it will be. Don't talk about it unless you must, and then not in the house or car. Pick a place which you agree is the only place it can be mentioned. There and nowhere else! A park bench, by the telephone pole up the street, wherever. Susan has vowed it will never happen again, you both say you want to save the marriage. So! Keep to your routines and rhythms of life. Whatever's happening inside, put it in a box and screw the lid shut. Maintain the façade and it will become the truth. And Susan? I do think you have some issues you may need help with...I have a name of a therapist you should see, or some other one of your choosing. Also you need the right sort of work to keep you occupied. Here is the name of a pastor who runs free English for non-native speaker classes. You're going to volunteer. And this woman," handing her another card, "she runs a soup kitchen. It's hard, hot work, and she always needs help. You are to do a minimum thirty hours, preferable more, of volunteer work a week helping people less fortunate than yourself. Chris, you are to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity, 12 hours a week. I want you both working fifty hours a week and more. If you come home tired from helping those with more problems than you have, you'll feel better, sleep better and brood less." Trying to be normal was a problem. I kept seeing Helmut fucking her. Finely I did her doggie style, head down, face covered, with her ass in the air. That worked. I could get hard and take pleasure. For months the bile would come up in my throat, and I would swallow it to keep the peace. The prescription to throw ourselves into work provided me the time alone to research her job history. Two days after the meeting with the lawyer, she was sitting in on English classes as a second language given by two experienced volunteer instructors, and I was examining the huge amount of data on the flash drive. It was work, but I printed up her presentation, and went through it word for word. In essence it was Marketing Analytics. Identify your market, and then use the internet to reach them through their internet searches. So for example, people who cater large weddings. They are the market for fresh and frozen prepared snack items. She had put together a product line of these sorts of munchies mostly from other ingredients that Gherkin already used, and then researched what else these catering customers were also concerned with, and might search. For example, if someone had searched the key words, "food safety, catering", or "food safety off site." Or table top steam tables, or portable ovens, the list went on and on. People who used these words in internet searches at some point would see Gherkin advertisements tailored to them showing up on their computer. Of course they worked with an ad agency to handle the placement of the ads and record and classify the responses. The pilot project was working very well, sales were rising rapidly, 10-15% per month, in a business where 5% per year was considered great! Add to it emails requesting her attention and help on their product lines, meeting with key clients. They were flying clients in to meet with her! Marketing managers arguing who had the greatest need for her help, all that convinced me her successes were the result of her talent and hard work. Not even a hint of sexual interest from anyone, except Helmut. She clearly earned her promotions, no indication of wanton lust on her part, nothing that contradicted her story. So to go forward, I only had to accept what happened with Helmut, but other than that...made me think of the old joke, "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?" A few days later we got an anonymous e-mail with pictures and information about Helmut's injuries. Testicles damaged, one removed, contusion and torn skin on the anus, coccyx fractured, torn ligament in the knee, three broken fingers, six broken ribs, three teeth broken, two loosened. Jaw broken in two places, fractured eye socket, crushed nose, torn ear and nostril, concussion, sever bruising on the head and face. Contusions on the chest and side. We looked over the pictures together. He was unrecognizable. "Chris, shouldn't we do this by the lamp post?" "These pictures were taken later, besides the light is better in here. Damn, girl! You beat the shit out of him! Look at that poor bastard. No wonder you heel's are bruised!" "I have to admit, its justice! My dad broke his tail bone once, that hurts like hell...He was miserable, got addicted to pain killers and all." I wondered about the coincidence, but one day after seeing the lawyer, Boss Swede called to ask for a meeting with us and our lawyer, if we wished, but in any case, he simply wanted to lay-out a proposed settlement and would provide a copy it in writing as well. Certainly he expected that nothing would be signed until her lawyer looked it over. He mentioned that, Helmut was fired outright with no severance pay. They had been planning to dump him at the end of the month; so they had all of the paper work prepared, they just moved it up a week. Our lawyer couldn't be there but the meeting would be in her office and her colleague would be. Boss Swede's offer was, in short: Any likely settlement would bankrupt the company. We were welcome to look at their books; copies of the financial reports were in the back of the binder. Of course Susan knew that, but she hadn't seen the proof of it. Susan's internet marketing strategy looked really good, and the turnaround was beginning. The sales people loved it, began using it and the customers liked it as well. He wanted her to continue to work for them. Sign a three year contract with: $40,000 bonus for work already done this year to date, a $100,000 signing bonus up front for a two year contract. Salary equal to the present one, plus a 15% commission on all sales of the products she introduced or modified the first year with residuals for contract extensions of 10% in year two and 5% in year three. That was the big picture, a lot of details as well. Our lawyer didn't know much about employment contracts and recommended somebody else to look it over. They checked, the company was indeed in financial trouble, and recommended she get some company stock instead of a cash bonus. It would cut our tax bill and grow in value In view of the importance of the wife's contribution to the company, she should insist on an ownership position in the company. After some back and forth, they caved in: no signing bonuses, but get a 10% ownership stake in the company vested in one year, and more stock in place of bonuses in years two and three. Susan told them we had to think about it and would get back to them in a couple of days. On the way home she said she wanted to talk to me. We put the kids to bed and went into the kitchen. We each had a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table across from each other. Chris I wanted the talk to you privately first about the offer on the table. It is a great offer but I will gladly decline and look elsewhere if you prefer. Our marriage is on fragile ground right now and it is more important to me than either the job or the company. I will decline if you want me too. I am sure they would be willing to give me a great recommendation letter. I'm not even sure I want or can go back after what has happened. Don't get me wrong, I am confident I have the solution to the company's financial problems but... "Sue Thanks for putting that on the table; it wasn't easy. You've proved yourself and your talent. You've a lot invested in the company despite the short time you've been there. It means a lot to me that you are willing to give that up for our marriage. " "Chris I told you. I love you alone! I will do what ever I have to .... To make it right...no, that's wrong. I can't change the past. I want you and the children more that a career. That's what all this has taught me." "Let it rest for now, come to bed...sleep on it. There's no need for a hasty decision. For the first time since seeing her that night, we slept in the same bed. Of all the intimacies of marriage, I realized that gesture, habit, really, is what I missed the most. I lay awake for a long time, listening to her slumber, feeling her warmth. I wanted the Susan back, the one who sang to herself around the house, whose laughter at the dinner table was so infectious. She genuinely wanted my happiness. But my happiness came from her's. There was no one without the other. Over coffee the next morning, with the kids out the door we talked. "I was up most of the night. If you want to take this offer... its OK with me. It's your dream and you earned it based on what I know. Be a shame not to see it through. It hurts me knowing what you went through, but you're different from the experience. History is not going to repeat itself, and if it does...the outcome will be different. In business vs. wife and mother, we had the balance about right, except for the last couple of months. If your job is going to require sixty hour weeks, you need to hire some staff to help. Make that a final negotiation point? They agreed, she signed. I think we realized that Great Gherkin was also a victim. Going back showed she had a set of brass balls, as the saying goes. How many managers could accept that all of the employees had pictures of her naked? She was worried, I told her: "What the hell, it's not much different than being on a nude beach." "I've never been to one, have you?" "No, but it's something different to look forward to, isn't it? While we're still young enough to be decorative with our cloths off." She decided to ignore the events of that night. Not mention or discuss it with her colleagues or employees. If it came up, she simply cut off anyone who tried to bring it up. One idiot mentioned how nice her tits looked in the video! She slapped him leaving a mark that was still there the next day, and told him that was sexual harassment. If he was really that stupid, he should reconsider his employment with the company before others did it for him. Word got out, and that was the end of it. Well it all worked for us. The pain didn't just disappear of course, but it slowly, steadily receded. We never did go to counseling. Like the lawyer suggested, we both accepted what had happened and put it aside. She realized how close she came to losing her family, made a real effort to please me, and she was happy with her life. I accepted she made a mistake, we both paid the price. You might wonder what price she paid? Well, she lost my unquestioning trust in her for a real long time, and she was the cause of a hell of a lot of pain and anguish. Guilt like that does not sit lightly. Our marriage survived the blow, but another one would kill it, we both knew that. And having nearly ended our relationship, we now understood its fragility, and recommitted to each other. It was better than before because we understood what we had. The kids were in blissful ignorance of the whole deal, so life is good! Isn't that the point of it all? In so many of these stories I've read, at the moment when the spouse finds out about the infidelity, the other spouse says "Honey, it's just sex," "Honey I only love you," "I love you both," "Honey, I'm leaving you." My Susan's actions said "Honey I hate this son of a bitch more than you do!" Her attack on Helmut was what convinced me that she was a victim. She knew then and knows now that she made a number of mistakes. She'll not repeat them. Six months to the day after that night, she went off the pill, and now we're expecting our third child! Two years later the company's on a sound footing, and she got more shares instead of her bonus, at this point she has a 15% share of the business, and that ownership is worth a hell of a lot more than the cash bonus she gave up. So Helmut was a bad thing that happened, caused us a lot of pain and heart ache, but in the end, our marriage is stronger for it.