145 comments/ 182757 views/ 31 favorites The Fool on the Hill By: Harddaysknight I was having one of the best days of my life. Then it became the worst! The boss had suggested I join him for lunch at a very nice downtown hotel. This was not an everyday occurrence, so I knew something was up. To my surprise, several men in upper management were at our table when we arrived. By the time lunch was over, I had learned I was being promoted, with a hefty salary increase. I was given direct responsibility for several important accounts. My 20 years of service to the company was being rewarded and I felt great! I was even given a staff of three to work on the accounts. My only reservation was that one of the people named to my staff was a self-serving, ass kisser. He would be a problem but I dared not voice any negatives. I was just receiving a promotion and it was no time to complain! I excused myself to go to the men's room. The few drinks and the excitement made me feel like my bladder would explode. I was thinking how excited Kate would be when I told her the news. We had been married for 23 years and had raised two kids. We had an empty nest and the promotion would allow us the freedom to do many of the things we had always dreamed about. Kate and I were best friends, lovers, and partners in everything. I was smiling to myself as I opened the door to leave the men's room. Things were going so very well for me. That was when I saw Kate and a fellow from her work step out of the elevator not 20 feet from where I stood. She did not see me. In fact, she had eyes only for her coworker as they strolled toward the hotel bar. Just before they ducked into the bar, he pulled her to him and kissed her lips! If you had taken a 2x4 and driven it into my gut, it would not have hurt as much. I staggered back into the lavatory and dropped to my knees by a toilet bowl. I offered my sacrifices to the porcelain gods for several minutes. Finally, I was completely purged. I managed to get to my feet and stagger to the sink. It took a minute or two to get myself cleaned up enough to leave the room. I stepped from the bathroom and looked for Kate. It took a minute to locate her, but I could see her through the glass doors. She was stepping into a cab and lover boy was turning to walk back to the front desk. I pulled myself together and intercepted him before he got there. I stepped in front of him and jammed my face close to his. "Hey, asshole," I hissed. "If I ever see you near my wife, or even suspect you have been near her, I am going to fuck you over big time!" His surprise was complete. I could see his mind trying to place me. Then understanding swept across his face. "Are you threatening me?" he blustered. If I hadn't been so livid, I would have laughed. "You have to ask, you goddamn idiot?" I blurted. "This is a serious fucking threat! I will fuck your wife, your kids, and your fucking dog. Shit, I'll fuck your cat if you have one, and then I'll fuck you, cocksucker! You'll have no marriage and a damn painful existence." He stood there with my face inches from his and I could see the fear. I could almost smell it. Still, it gave me no pleasure. Another thought came to me as I faced the man that had made me a cuckold. "If Kate ever finds out that I know about you and her, I will come looking for you. Your wife will know what a fucking shit she married and you and I will be going at it knuckle and skull. I don't give a shit if you outweigh me by 20 pounds. It will be mine to do and I will sure as all hell do it!" I turned on my heel and walked away. One of the desk people was approaching as I left. I guess it was apparent that we were not best friends. I walked past him to rejoin my superiors in the dining room. "Tom! I thought we were going to have to send a search party," laughed the boss. "You look a little pale, Tom. Are you ok?" "I am fine, Henry. I'm just excited about the opportunity you have given me," I replied. I was still seething on the inside and was not yet able to control all my emotions. Without thinking, I told the boss that which I had promised myself I would not. "I do have to admit that I do not think Howard will work very well on my staff, Henry," I suggested. "If it is possible, I would prefer Steve Whiting, from advertising." "Howard has a lot of experience in this field. Why would you prefer Steve," asked my boss. "I have worked with Howard for several years now. I have always found him to be lazy, self-serving, undependable, and an extreme ass-kisser. Other than that, he does a decent job," I finished. Henry looked from me to the other men sitting at the table. None of them would look him in the eye. He turned back to me and I returned his look as I waited for him to comment. "Those seem like very good reasons," he laughed. "I like a man that speaks his mind, Tom. I have to admit that you only confirmed my personal observations about Howard." Then the other senior management suits chirped in telling how they never thought Howard was very good either. They had their heads so far up the boss's ass it was a wonder they could even breathe. "Tom, it is likely that Howard will learn that you didn't want him on your team and confront you," continued the boss. "We all know there are no secrets when more than one person is involved. What will you do at that point?" "I won't waste any time farting around with him, Henry. I will just ignore him and go about my business," I replied. This thing with Kate was making me unusually candid and it felt good. "That sounds good, but he may pursue it, if you understand my drift," Henry continued. "If I have to, I'll kick his ass. Is that what you are looking for, Henry?" I asked. Everyone looked down at the table as Henry studied my face. "I have to say I am surprised by you, and pleasantly so, Tom," he confessed. "For some reason, I worried that you would be too timid and wishy-washy to head a team. Now I wonder why I didn't promote you years ago." "It was only very recently that I have become more assertive, Henry," I explained. "You were probably right to hold back. The good news is I am now ready and will do a good job for you." I was thinking of Kate with that fucking weasel as I spoke. My attitude change was very recent. It was less than an hour old! It occurred to me that I could easily handle my new position. A week ago it would have been so important that I would have lost sleep over it. Now, putting it in perspective, I knew I was the best man for the job and would not even fret over the work. I had bigger fish to fry at the moment. Everything is relative, I realized. The gathering broke up shortly after that and I drove home. I was half an hour earlier than usual, but Kate's car was in the drive when I pulled in. Usually she got home a few minutes later than I. "You are home early," observed Kate. "Is anything wrong at work, Honey?" I noticed she was wearing a robe and her hair was wet. She was obvious she had washed away any incriminating evidence of her afternoon tryst. "I just left a little early," I answered. "Did you get dirty at work and have to come home to clean up or something?" My question seemed to surprise her for a second. Then she laughed and told me, "The air conditioning quit today and around 3:00 we all went home. I was all sweaty from the humidity, so I showered." "So you stuck it out at work until 3:00 with no air?" I asked. "You know our company, Tom. They hate to lose a nickel. I sat there and perspired until they sent us home at 3:00," repeated Kate. "I'll have to rib Tony about it next time I see him," I laughed. I can only imagine how many pounds he lost today." Tony was a coworker of Kate's that was actually obese and would break into a sweat if the temperature passed 60 degrees. Kate looked at me, but had no reply. Let her start worrying about covering her lies. It could consume her, I decided, and that would be a good thing. Right then I decided not to confront Kate. I would simply ask innocent questions and make little observations. When a person is drawn into lies, they can suffer in more ways than a truthful person can imagine. That whack-job in Salt Lake City is a good example. Kate started dinner and was unusually happy and talkative. Her good mood made mine worse. I knew the reason for her cheer and it plunged me into the depths of despair. Still I tried to cover it up. I did not want to tip my hand too soon. As we dined, Kate made all kinds of small talk and tried to draw me into a conversation. Try as I would, I could not muster much enthusiasm for anything. I felt I was doing well to not grab a knife and slice her heart out! After dinner we sat down and watched a movie. As soon as it was over, I announced I was going to bed. I quickly took care of all my bedtime chores and crawled into bed, depressed and morose. It was only a minute later that Kate slid in next to me, and she was naked! "I thought you might like a little nookie tonight," she whispered as she leaned her breasts against me. All I could think about was how she had pushed her breasts against another man a few hours prior and she was offering me his seconds. As I pictured it in my mind, I felt my stomach begin to protest. By this time, Kate was rubbing her hand over my cock, but it was not responding. I tried to think of baseball, or politics, just to ease my nerves. It didn't help. "You seem a little tense tonight, Lover," whispered Kate. "Maybe some of this will help relax you." She placed my hand on her pussy and all I could think of was the last cock that had been there. My stomach made its decision. I pushed Kate off and sprinted to the bathroom. I was barely able to keep it down till I reached the toilet. Then dinner made an early exit. I was kneeling there for a few minutes before I began to feel better. Slowly, I rose and washed my face and brushed my teeth again. "I knew you weren't feeling well, Sweetheart," Kate said as I slowly returned to a normal state. "I heard there was something going around. You had better plan on taking tomorrow off. You look like death warmed over." It had been a practice of ours over the years for an ill spouse to sleep in the spare bedroom. That way we would not contaminate the other, or ruin their night's sleep. "Whatever," I mumbled as I headed for the guest room. I closed the door and slept little that night. I was up early and showered and dressed and left for work before Kate woke up. I knew I would be almost an hour early, but it was better than spending time at home, under the circumstances. I prepared my new office. Funny, but I had forgotten about my promotion until I was almost at work. By the time the regular work force arrived I was moved in and ready to go. The group seemed genuinely pleased to be working under me. I briefly laid out my expectations and what I would consider and what I would not. Soon my team was doing its job. I never really thought about it much before, but I soon learned that I didn't have to know a great deal about any given part of the project. I had to make certain that the person doing that part of the puzzle did. I had to guide them and settle any questions of priority or domain. Since I had a good group, it became apparent that we would meet our deadlines and goals easily. That allowed me more time to stew about Kate and where we stood. I wondered if lover-boy would work up the balls to tell Kate I had threatened him. Recalling the fear I had seen in his face, I felt it was unlikely. I also decided he would not be willing to risk getting his ass pounded, and his wife finding out, by seeing Kate again. I wondered how Kate would take his rejection, if he were astute enough to realize I was dead serious when I threatened him. I was mulling these thoughts over as I was eating a sandwich and drinking a Dew when that asshole, Howard, stormed into the conference room we had been assigned. The rest of the team was working on a project on the drawing board. "What the hell have you been telling the boss, Tom?" he yelled. "I hear you told him I was pretty much worthless and you didn't want me on your team! Would you care to say it to my face?" he demanded. I stood up and looked him over. He was a few inches taller than I and about thirty pounds heavier. I suddenly felt very much alive and yet, calm. This was the sort of problem I could handle. It was physical and straightforward. "Howard, I am sorry you heard about it, but I am not sorry I told Henry I didn't want you on my team," I stated calmly. "You are a back-stabbing, ass-kissing, self-centered prick to work with. You are a lazy fuck and love to blame your mistakes on other people. I wouldn't have you on my team if you were the last man standing in this office." Howard was stunned! He had expected me to placate him, to lie to get out from under the truth. I didn't and he had to form a response. "I think you are the back-stabber," he hollered. "This promotion should have been mine but you sucked Henry's cock and got in front of me, you bastard!" "I would never get between you and a man's cock, Howard," I calmly assured him. "You asked and I told you, now get the fuck out of my room or start the ball!" Howard was shocked that I had called his bluff. He looked at the others watching him and tried to bluster. His only goal was saving face. "I'd kick you ass, but you would get me fired," he shouted. "I am not dumb enough to fall for that." "Howard, I told Henry that I'd kick your ass if you gave me any trouble and I am beginning to think I'll have to," I allowed. "Will you folks close the door after you so that Howard and I can have a more personal discussion, please," I asked my crew. They practically jumped to get out the door as fast as they could. Howard was beginning to shake as he saw them leave. "You're crazy if you think I am going to stay in here alone with you. You tell some crazy story to get me fired if I worked you over!" I jumped the few feet that separated us and chopped Howard a short blow to his throat. He began to cough and choke immediately, but I didn't care or wait. I grabbed his hair with my left hand and the waist of his pants with the other and ran him right at the door. The others had just gotten out and had their backs turned to us. "Leave the door open," I hollered as I propelled Howard toward it, "and get out of the way!" With that I gave him a final push and he shot stumbling and gagging through the open door. The others barely managed to step aside as he went crashing to the floor. There was complete silence for a full minute as everyone waited to see what Howard would do next. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, looked around, and went down the hall. Steve Whiting quipped, "It looks like we had better not piss off the boss. He'll kick our asses!" With that everyone filed back into the room and resumed their work, although there were more than a few comments and suggestions made. It seemed my stock rose quite a bit with my group because of my handling of Howard. Later that day, Henry called me to his office. "Did Howard stop in your work area today," he questioned. "Yes, he stopped for a minute or so," I answered. Henry looked at me closely for a minute. "And was there any problem?" he prompted. "I would have to say I had no problem, Henry. Have you reason to think I did?" I asked. "Howard stopped in and gave his two week notice and said he couldn't work in a place where his safety could not be guaranteed," Henry responded. "I guess you don't know what he meant?" "I would suggest you ask Howard what Howard was saying, Henry. I really can't speak for him," I replied. Henry just nodded and I went back to work. That night Kate was unusually quiet and I wondered to myself what she was thinking. Had her male friend told her it was over? Had he told her I knew? Somehow I doubted it because she seemed preoccupied and not concerned with me. My day had been full, and I had not slept the previous evening, so I retired to the guest room and went to sleep early. I was up early and out before Kate was awake again the next morning. That night I slept in the guest room and Kate seemed perplexed but did not question it. It gradually became a steady habit. It was a week later that Kate finally asked why. "Why are you still sleeping in the guest room, Tom?" she inquired. "You seem to be feeling well enough." "I don't know what I have, or had, but I didn't want to give it to you, Kate. I wouldn't want anyone to feel like I did that night," I answered truthfully. "Well, I think you have totally recovered, so I want you to sleep with me. I miss you and it is your husbandly duty," she added. I could think of no excuse to sleep in the guest room, so I went to bed in our room that evening. I just hoped Kate did not have any romantic intentions. As it turned out, she sat up watching a movie in bed and I slept well. The problem came the following evening. I was snuggled into my side of the bed when Kate began to run her hands over me and rub her wonderful tits against my back. The images began to return and I felt queasy. "How about the little guy comes out to play?" she asked as she stroked my cock. "I have a nice warm place for him." This was the sort of talk we used to initiate sex over the years of our marriage. My stomach revolted again and I rushed to the bathroom. This was starting to worry me. I couldn't be vomiting every time my wife got close to me, yet that seemed to be the case. I once again deposited a meal in the toilet. Gradually I gathered my strength and cleaned myself up. "I think you should see a doctor, Tom," suggested Kate. "I have never seen you vomit so often." I looked at her and could see she was genuinely concerned. Then I thought she could collect my insurance if I croaked and she would be happier. With that thought, I headed to the guest room and went to sleep. Kate watched me with a worried look until I closed the door. I felt guilty about her worrying about me, but I was not willing to tell her why I got ill so often. This scenario actually occurred twice more in the next two weeks. It became obvious to Kate that she was the reason I was getting sick. One morning after a bad session with the john, Kate brought the subject up as I was trying to leave without waking her. I was headed for the door when she spoke from the gloom of the living room. It surprised me, as I had not seen her sitting there. "Why does it make you ill to be near me, Tom," she asked me pointedly. "You used to like making love to me. Do you have a girlfriend?" The irony of the question brought a grim smile to my lips, but it was too dark for her to notice. "I don't have any lady friends, Kate. I have never been unfaithful to you in any way," I responded. "I must have some kind of stomach disorder." "Where you throw up when your own wife gets too close?" Kate persisted. "I have never heard of anything like that. You don't have the same 'disorder' the governor of New Jersey has, do you, Tom? If you do, I want to know!" Now it was becoming ludicrous. She thought I might have become gay after all these years? Maybe I should consider it, I thought to myself for a fleeting second. "Kate, I am not suddenly gay. I just have a weak stomach at this point. It will improve, just be patient," I pleaded. "Why have you been sneaking out so early in the morning then, if you aren't seeing anyone," she cried. "I know something is up and you aren't telling me everything!" "Okay, I replied. Let's tell each other everything that may be of interest to the other. You go first," I urged Kate. "What the hell does that mean?" she yelled. "I am not the one behaving oddly. I don't have anything to tell!" "Often odd behavior is not the sign or symptom of a person hiding things. I have discovered that over the years," I replied calmly. "The smart person keeps their behavior very normal, to avoid any suspicion." The Fool on the Hill Every day the 'Fool on the Hill' shuffled down from his ramshackle old house pushing a shopping trolley and wandered the streets picking up stuff. We all knew that it was stuff because whenever he was asked what he was collecting he would mumble "Stuff". Most of the time he collected aluminum soft drink cans. That wasn't his only eccentricity, as he shuffled about picking up stuff he would mumble to himself and to his friend. Sometimes he and his friend would argue and there were occasions when he would shout at his friend to leave him alone. The problem with that was that his friend existed only in his mind. He was always dressed in a threadbare suit and collar and tie and he wore a black bowler hat that had a pink plastic rose stuck in the hat band. His clothes, while old and worn, were always clean and his shoes had a spit and polish shine to them. One day a police car stopped beside him and he was asked where he had gotten the trolley from, to which he replied in his usual mumbling voice, "I found it and told the supermarket that I had it and they should come and collect it, but they never did, so I figured that they didn't want it." The funny thing about the trolley, and you had to look closely at it, was that it didn't, like all trolleys, have a mind of its own and wander haphazardly about, it tracked straight. This could have been because the wheels were not normal trolley wheels but some that he had obviously found while collecting stuff. We kids used to give him a hard time following him as he shuffled through the streets imitating as best we could his shuffling walk until one day my mother explained to me that this wasn't a nice thing to do and also explaining to us something of his story. It seems that some fifteen years ago, I was eight at the time, Thomas Halifax Breckinridge the third, or was it fourth, was someone of importance in the town, a little eccentric granted but important. His family was well to do and he was well educated, he had an aeronautical engineering degree, and things were looking good for his future until two events shattered his life. The first was the loss of both parents in the space of six months. His father who, to the disgust of his family who thought that he should follow family tradition and live a life of luxurious indolence, was a pilot in the Air Force and was on a training mission when his plane crashed killing all on board. This was followed a short time later by his mother succumbing to cancer. He withdrew into himself and it was not long after that his fiancée of three years left him, weeks before they were due to marry. He became a recluse after that and withdrew to his house to emerge each day to continue in his search for stuff. There was one change to this schedule. One day each month he would leave his trolley at home and walk to the railway station where he would catch the first train of the day to the city, at least that's where we thought that he was going, to return on the last train of the day. No-one knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing there although there were many rumours, some very fanciful, usually involving certain establishments inhabited by a certain type of young lady that catered for sad and lonely men. It was noticed by those that noticed these things that the day after these trips a truck would drive up to his house and several crates would be unloaded and carried into a large barn behind the main house. This went on for years and was still happening when I returned home to see my parents during my third year at university. I had news that I was sure that my parents would be interested in and that concerned the 'Fool on the Hill'. One day during a lecture it just happened to be mentioned that one of the truly great aeronautical engineers that the university had ever seen was our 'Fool on the Hill', the lecturer didn't actually call him that but by his proper name and that he'd dropped out of sight and no-one knew where he was. It seemed that he had been working on a radical new construction method for light weight airframes when he lost the plot. The lecturer commented that it was a crying shame that this had happened and wondered out loud that no-one seemed to know or was interested in his whereabouts. I kept my silence figuring to myself that he might not be interested in his old life. The more that I learned about this man the more that I was determined that something should be done for him, it was a pity that a man of such talent and who had a brilliant life ahead of him should have come to this sad and solitary life. The next morning I followed him as he shuffled up the hill with his load of stuff. I followed him through what remained of the once magnificent stone gate and down the overgrown gravel drive. I waited for several minutes after I saw him wheel his trolley to the barn before I knocked on the door. "Hello, is anybody home?" "Go away!" Strangely the voice didn't have the same mumble that I was used to. "Sorry to bother you but could I just have a quick word with you, I want to discuss a problem I have." "It's your problem, you fix it. Leave me alone." "Look, I'm studying aeronautical engineering at university and I know, I've been told, that you are something of an expert in the area that I'm interested in. I won't take up much of your time." I figured that flattery might just get him interested. "And what makes you think that I'm interested in your problem?" At least he didn't tell me to go away this time. "My lecturer has told me that he can't or won't help me, he reckons that it's because he doesn't know the answer, and he did tell me that the only person he knew that just might have an answer would be you." "What fool have you been talking to?" "Professor Hartley, Jeremy Hartley." "I'm not surprised that he can't help you, but that doesn't mean that I can, or even want to." Again he hadn't asked me to leave. My hopes buoyed I pressed on. "Can I at least explain my problem to you? If you decide that you can't help me then I'll leave you in peace." "Do you promise that if I can't help you'll leave me alone?" "Yes." "Then I can't help, leave me alone." "That's not fair. I haven't even told you what my problem is." "One day you'll learn that not everything in this world is fair." "I know something of your problems and I really am sorry that you feel that the world has treated you badly, and if I was in your position I'd probably be just as pissed off with the world as you are. Please, just give me five minutes of your time, and if at the end of that time you decide not to help then I'll leave you alone." I could hear someone coming towards me, but it wasn't the shuffling step that I'd been expecting and the man that stood before me wasn't anything like the man I was expecting. He stood erect, not the hunched figure that I'd seen minutes before. He was wearing a blue boiler suit and had a pair of welding goggles pushed back onto his head. The hair wasn't what I'd expected either. When he ventured forth on his daily shuffle his hair was hidden by the bowler hat which he was not wearing now and while there were a couple of grey streaks in the black wavy hair, it was clean and shiny. I'd somehow expected it to be untidy and greasy from lack of attention, but the opposite was the case, it was neatly combed and shined from recent shampooing. He was clean shaven and his eyes were a clear, one could say piercing, blue. I stood there with my mouth open. "You've just wasted thirty seconds." "Sorry, forgive me, I'm just surprised that's all. What my problem is that we've been asked to design a light fixed wing aircraft with the view to mass production so that more people can afford to take up flying. My problem is that I want to use a different type of material for the outer skin, something that is very light, very strong and easily worked, while being cheap. That leaves out carbon fibre because of its high cost and expensive production methods. I had thought of aluminium but again the cost of production is expensive and there could be a problem with fatigue after several years in service. What do you suggest?" "Have you considered a composite material?" "All of the composites that are available are either too expensive or are too difficult to work." "Maybe you'll just have to invent a composite that is cheap and easy to work." "But where do I start? Time is an important factor as well, I have to have this project well into the prototype phase in six months." "Well you don't have a lot of time, do you?" "That's why I came to see you. Professor Hartley told me that one area that you were very good at was lateral solutions to problems." "Next time you see him you can tell him from me that if he ever thinks of sending someone to see me for help I'll personally come to his place of work and pull his scrotum up over his head." There was a smile on his face when he said this. This was one strange man. "Come in, let me show you something." He led the way into the barn that wasn't a barn at all. It was an aircraft hangar. The whole of the back wall was a massive sliding door which was open letting light into the interior. There in the middle of the hangar was an almost completed aircraft the like of which I had never seen. When I looked closely at the fuselage I noticed printing showing through the layer of glass reinforced plastic that coated it. I could just make out the words "Coca Cola" This plane was made of drink cans. "How have you done that?" "Come with me." He led me to a workbench and picked up a straightened out aluminium can, and clamped it on two blocks of wood. "Hit that." He handed me a ball peen hammer and I hit it and, as expected, it distorted badly and a crack appeared in the stretched metal. He then took a sheet of fibreglass and instructed me to do the same to it. The ball peen went through the material and the integrity of the sheet was compromised. He then gave me a sheet of the material that he had used on the fuselage of the plane. I whacked it as hard as I could and, while a small dent appeared in the centre of the sheet, its integrity remained intact. "How?" I was speechless; I'd never seen anything like this, two materials that separately didn't hold up under the force of the impact but combined withstood it, and it wasn't just the extra thickness of the two materials because he gave me pieces of each that were the same thickness and the result was pretty much the same. "When you bond aluminium with something like fibreglass, or Kevlar reinforced resin, or even carbon fibre, it can flex to a certain extent before its integrity is compromised and the aluminium is protected by the other material from distorting to the point where it too is compromised, so you see that the sum of the two is considerably greater than the strength of the same thickness of the individual materials." "But how have you fixed the cans to the airframe, there are no rivets or welds?" "That's the breakthrough that I've been working on for years. Let me show you." He led me to a work bench and picked up a small cross section of a wing. It had a foam core into which were cut grooves, fixed into these grooves was a single layer of aluminium, some of them contained conduits for controls, lighting and fuel lines, then the whole section was sheathed with his outer layer. "It is all to do with the method of bonding the aluminium to the foam and then the fibreglass to the aluminium so that they all become so tightly bonded together that they cannot be pulled apart." It was light weight but exceptionally strong. "I have load tested a whole wing and it can support much more than that required for certification." He then showed me a cross section of the fuselage, it again had a foam core and the thing that I noticed was the shape. He saw my puzzled expression. "One of the strongest shapes in nature is the egg so the outer skin is egg shaped, slightly narrower at the top than the bottom, the inner shape is round, the curvature of the inner shape gives greater rigidity to the horizontal axis while the egg shape gives strength to the vertical axis. You'll also notice that the space under the floor is an ellipse, again for strength and rigidity. With this I have achieved immense strength and rigidity in a light weight structure." To demonstrate this he took the cross section and placed it in a cradle that did little more than preventing it from rolling over. "Stand on top." I climbed the step ladder and stepped gingerly onto it. Even with my full weight on it the section had not distorted. "Don't be afraid, jump up and down." I did, at first a small jump and then, as my confidence grew bigger jumps, still with no effect on the section. "That's amazing! I wish that I'd thought of this." "Who's to say you didn't?" "What do you mean?" "What is to stop you from working with me to finish this project and then we can present it as your project for your assignment." "No I couldn't, that's stealing your intellectual property and I wouldn't do that." "Good, that's what I thought you'd say, so I have another suggestion." "And that is?" I was interested and intrigued at the same time. "How would you like to be my research assistant on this project, I can pay you, and when it's completed we can present it as a sort of joint effort." "I'd love to work with you but I won't accept any of the glory for your work." "But I insist that you get credit for your ideas, I will not, not like some that I know, take credit for the work of others." I sensed a note of sadness in this statement, as if he had personal experience of this situation. "What I want you to do is to bring up your project as far as you've got with it and I'll have a look at it and see if you have any ideas that can be incorporated in my designs." I walked around his aircraft, it was a truly beautiful design, sleek and smooth, the windows seemed to be an integral part of the fuselage not something cut into it and where the high mounted wings were moulded into the fuselage there were no seams or anything to indicate that they were a separate entity. The engine cowlings were on the floor beneath the wings and I could see that not only were they moulded to fit seamlessly into the wing structure but that they had sound deadening material on the inner surface. I was guess that there would be little if any noise inside the passenger compartment when it was flying. "Are you hungry?" His voice interrupted my awe. "I don't want to put you to any trouble." "No trouble, come." He led the way to his house. I don't know what I really expected but it certainly wasn't this. The house was spotless, the kitchen wasn't the rustic wooden style that I expected to see in this centuries old house, the work surfaces were all stainless steel as were the appliances. In contrast the cupboard doors were stark and white. This did not come from IKEA. "Sit down." He indicated a chair so I sat and watched as he set about producing a meal to die for, thinly sliced ham off the bone on crusty bread cut from a loaf that had been cooling on a rack, sliced tomatoes picked from a bush in a pot on the window sill, and topped with a farmhouse cheese cut from a block that sat under a cover on the bench. He placed these under a griller until the cheese was melted and golden brown on top. There was no flourish that you come to expect from TV chefs as he placed the plate in front of me. "Wine?" He asked "Yes." He produced a bottle and pulled a soft plastic stopper from it. He poured us each a glass. "Don't worry, I only opened this last night and the stopper is part of a system where I pump the air out of the bottle so that it doesn't go off too quickly, there won't be much difference between this and last night's." I took a sip, if this was better last night it must have been brilliant because it was still very good. I took a mouthful of my grilled sandwich and sat there with my mouth shut as my taste buds went to work identifying the individual flavours. They weren't used to this experience having survived on a diet of hamburgers and other junk food. This man never ceased to surprise and amaze, he had effortlessly produced a simple, rustic even, meal that had so much flavour. After lunch we went back to the barn where I helped him install and test the rudder controls. It was fiddly and exacting work and it was some time before he was satisfied. He allowed me to sit in the pilot's seat while he checked the system and I imagined what this would be like to fly, the visibility on all sides was brilliant because of the high wing configuration, I had a clear view of both engines and there were rear pointing video cameras on both side so that the pilot had a real time view of what was behind him. All the controls were placed within easy reach and instruments were located where they could be seen easily with the most important in direct line of sight. This was an extremely well thought out aircraft and I had the urge to ask if I could be the one to test fly it but suppressed that urge, at least for the time being. It was getting dark when I left. "I'll bring my stuff up in the morning." I caught his quick glance at me when I called it 'stuff' and there was a smile on his face. "Do you want me to follow you up after you collect your cans or whatever?" "I have no need for more cans or whatever so you may as well come straight up, don't wait for me." "Fine, I'll see you in the morning." "Where have you been all day?" My mother asked as I let myself in. "Up the hill." "Don't tell me you've been talking to that strange man up there?" She was concerned. "Alright I won't." "All day?" She obviously couldn't believe that I could have spent the whole day talking to the 'Fool on the Hill'. I didn't sleep well, the thoughts that galloped back and forth through my brain kept me awake most of the night. Most of them concerned aeronautical engineering and what I had seen and was going to be working on tomorrow, and part of that was whether he would accept any on my ideas. But now and then my thoughts took a more personal turn, I was somehow attracted to this man on a personal level. To say that I was confused would be something of an understatement. It wasn't all that long ago that he was an object of derision for my friends and I, this hunched, shuffling 'Fool on the Hill', but now I knew him to be a totally different person, a tall, straight backed man, not conventionally handsome but his looks could grow on you. He was obviously intelligent, definitely articulate, had good taste in food and wine and could even cook. His house was derelict on the outside but modern and functional on the inside, at least the parts of it that I have seen. It was as if he allowed his public persona to protect his private persona from public scrutiny. There was much more to this man than met the eye and I was determined to find the real Thomas Halifax Breckinridge the whatever. So, armed with my portfolio of my work thus far I trudged up the hill. People I passed looked at me as if I was weird or something but I didn't care. I found Thomas, I can hardly call him the 'Fool on the Hill' any more can I, at work in the barn. He looked up as I let myself in and beckoned me over to his drafting table. I opened my portfolio and spread my work on the table. He turned on a bright light and looked closely at my work, commenting briefly on most of it until he came to my design for wing flaps. He looked at it for several minutes before moving the design to one side. Then he stopped at my design for winglets. He moved that to one side as well. Several minutes later he had completed his scrutiny of my work and placed most of it back into the portfolio, all except the flap and winglet designs. "Tell me about these." The Fool on the Hill I pointed toward the flap design. "I have had this thought for some time that the traditional flap design has two distinct sections, the wing and the flap itself and when the flap is moved a distinct angle is formed and a gap is formed on the control surface that creates turbulence. I have looked at ways of reducing this turbulence and improving lift. I looked to nature for a solution and I think that I've found it in the sea." "How so?" "If you looked at the tails of lobsters or prawns, thinks like that, you'll see that the surface of the tail is made up of rigid plates yet it can curl up quite tightly and quickly, so I looked at how the individual plates were joined together and have tried to duplicate that. It is only in the sketch stage at present." "It's something that we should look closely at with the view to making a working model. Now these winglets, I notice that you have more than one, what is the concept in that?" "The original winglet design is a simple form of nature, the end feathers of the eagle's wing. The way that I looked at it was; if nature, which has had several thousand years to perfect this design used several feathers, why shouldn't we? The original idea was to stop the wing tip vortices, reduce turbulence at the wing tip that was preventing the full length of the wing from providing lift, and at the same time reducing fuel consumption. I have used three winglets; the leading one has the greater curvature reducing as we go back. Wing tunnel testing of a prototype has confirmed an improvement in lift and reduction of turbulence from the single winglet." The rest of the day was spent at the drafting table turning my preliminary sketches into working drawings, searching for the most mechanically efficient operation of the system. I admired the speed at which the drawings appeared on the paper and working in close proximity to this man was awe inspiring. When he was satisfied with the progress we moved to his computer and his CAD program. After inputting the information required by the program it produced finished diagrams complete with the necessary angles and dimensions. He explained that this was a requirement of the certification process. It was about then that we realised that it was late afternoon and we hadn't even stopped for lunch. "I'd better get going, my mother will be wondering what's happened to me." "Do you really want to go?" I got the impression that he wanted me to stay. "No, not really." Home wasn't where I wanted to be, with its version of the Spanish Inquisition trying to find out why I had spent all day here. I could imagine my mother; "What must the neighbours think, a young girl spending all day with that crazy man." How about all night Mum? "How would it be if I whipped up something for us and you can have dinner here. Then you can sneak home after dark and no-one will see you." "Yes, I would love to stay for dinner and as for sneaking home, forget it. When I go home it will be daylight and I don't care what people think." "Wait a minute, if you're going home in daylight that doesn't leave me any time to prepare a meal, unless you intend. . . ." His voice trailed off. "Yes I do intend, that is of course as long as you have no objection." "But I have no spare bedroom and that means that I'll have to sleep on the couch." "No it doesn't, it means that you and I are going to sleep together. I have a reason or two for this. I'll tell you about it later, after you feed me." Feed me he did and very well. I had never tasted a tagine before and he explained that it originated in Morocco and was cooked in a special dish with a conical lid that recirculated the moisture so you used less. Apart from all that, he explained, it was dead easy, the ingredients along with the herbs and spices were put in the dish and slow cooked for several hours. What he served was part of a batch he had prepared earlier and frozen. It was thawed and then nuked in a microwave and served with cuscus. We were seated on his sofa listening to music. "What are your reasons for staying the night?" "Firstly I have to ask you a question; what is it between you and Professor Hartley?" "We were close friends and went to Oxford together. After we graduated we were working on a project together when my parents died. I guess I lost my way for some time and just as I was about to surface again he pissed off with my fiancé. I went into what was called clinical depression that lasted for several years. I have little time for him after I found that he had used our work, claiming it to be all his own, to get a Masters degree and a job as a lecturer at university." "I thought so. When I discussed my project with him I got the impression that he was clearly out of his depth so I did a little research and came to the conclusion, that you have just confirmed, that he is guilty of plagiarism. That has made me determined to succeed in this, and because he hit on me. I rejected him of course and that was when he suggested that I should try to find you, I think he hoped that I would waste so much time looking for you that I'd never complete the project. That is why this project has to succeed because he will crucify me if he can find fault in it." "These projects, do they have to actually fly?" "It's not essential but we will be graded higher if it does." "Do you have a pilot's license?" "Yes. I learnt to fly several years ago and have a commercial license." He had a smile on his face, he was up to something. We went to bed at around 10pm and, no, we didn't have sex. I kissed him. "I hope that you're not expecting to have sex with me tonight, you see, it's been fifteen years since I have made love and I don't feel comfortable in myself and I'm afraid that I'll be a disappointment to you. When we make love I want it to be perfect." It would be a fool not to notice that he said 'when we make love' and I'm no fool. "So the rumours about you going into town and visiting a brothel are just that, rumours?" "Yes, I spent those days in research and sourcing materials that I couldn't find laying around the streets." This marked the end of his foraging forays down the hill. On the occasions when I ventured back to my parent's home I was confronted by an angry mother and concerned father. "Fiona, what are you doing up there? You never come to see us and you're always up there with that crazy man and he's even stopped coming down the hill. Some of my friends have told me that you're even sleeping with him, please tell me that's not true, I just couldn't bear the thought of my daughter with . . . that horrible man." "And you wonder why I don't come home." I looked from one to the other. "We are working on a project, a top secret project, and it has something to do with my studies, that's all I can say about it apart from pointing out that it is all legal and above board and that there is no sexual relationship between us." "Thank God for that!" Mother's relief was almost overwhelming. "I won't ask about your top secret project, I just want to say be careful, I don't want to see you hurt." Father kissed me on the forehead as I left with a bag of clean clothes. I should work out how to work the washing machine up at the house. Two months later, after much static testing of the engines and control systems we decided that she was ready for a test flight. We wheeled her out of the barn into the early morning sunlight. She was beautiful now that you couldn't read 'Coca Cola' through the fibreglass, instead her fuselage was silver with dark blue side flashes and tailplane. There were no numbers on her yet, that would come next week when she gets her certification. Thomas took her up on her first flight, he, we decided that if anything went wrong it would be a pity if we were both killed so we tossed a coin to decide who it would be, he won. She gathered speed across the field and took to the air smoothly, climbing quickly into the morning sky, the noise from her two engines barely disturbing the birds. He performed a couple of tentative aerobatic manoeuvres before a full blooded barrel roll before bring her back in. The smile on his face as he got out said it all, his only comment to me was "Sweet." I took her up and flew her around for some thirty minutes and had to agree with him, she definitely was 'sweet'. Her controls were responsive to the lightest touch, her wing flaps had become an integral part of the wing structure not a separate entity like a normal flap and it performed better than I had hoped and there was no sign of flutter from her winglets. I landed and taxied over to Thomas waiting outside the hangar, I can't call it a barn anymore can I. He met me with a questioning look on his face. "Well, what do you think?" I threw myself into his arms and planted a huge kiss on his lips. "She is great! You've created a masterpiece." "We've created a masterpiece, this is a joint effort and you are just as much a part of this as I am." He helped me push her back into the hangar and we went up to the house for a celebratory breakfast. He looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup. "Fiona, my lawyer is coming to see me this morning and I want you to be there." "What's it all about?" "You'll just have to wait and see." I threw a toast crust at him and it soon degenerated into a minor food fight. Even as we cleaned up the mess he wouldn't tell me what was going on. To say that it took me by surprise would be an understatement. The articles of a company were drawn up with Thomas and myself as Directors and THB Aircraft became a legal entity and patent applications were filed for all of the developments that we had included in the design of the THB001. We were officially up and flying. The next item on the agenda was to get certification for the plane to fly and for this we had to provide all evidence of our testing protocols and results as well as conduct a demonstration flight before an assessment panel that would then make the final recommendation before the certification could be approved. In the mean time I had advised the university that I had completed my project and would present it at the airfield along with the other completed projects and no, I wouldn't be needing help with transport. This turn of events had Professor Hartley asking questions. "Yes I would be flying it in and yes I did have a Pilot's License and as it is a prototype it doesn't need certification and no, I would not be signing over the intellectual property for my project to the university." When pressed on this last issue my enigmatic reply was simply, "I have my reasons and I am not prepared to discuss it at this time." In the days leading up to the public unveiling of my project we were really busy planning our dramatic entry. If it all went to plan I would present Professor Hartley with my project that he would not be able to mark down out of spite for my rejecting his sexual advances. All of the other projects were assembled and the students were walking about looking at the designs and passing comment. Professor Hartley was pacing impatiently, probably hoping that I'd had engine failure or crashed and wouldn't turn up because he and one of the female students had places to be and time was running out. "Look!" On cue as arranged, Charlie Rogers pointed to the sky. Some distance away a speck could be seen getting nearer, coming from the upwind end of the runway. It was still some fifty metres above the ground when it reached the centre of the runway where it performed a perfect barrel roll before looping up into a stall turn and swinging around to touch down. I taxied over to where they were all standing and climbed out. My fellow students rushed to have a look at this plane that I'd helped to build and it became the centre of considerable attention. I had to field dozens of questions and it was some time before Professor Hartley could bring himself to come and inspect it. Hartley was disappointed that I had arrived in my plane and performed a perfect landing in a proper plane and not some modified ultra-light that other students had used as test-beds for their ideas. Professor Hartley was also furious. "What sort of stunt was that to pull! I'll have your license disqualified! That plane isn't certified and you're chucking it around the sky like that." A quiet voice from behind him caused him to turn around. "You can do nothing about it, she had clearance to perform aerobatic manoeuvres, and the plane has a full certification." Hartley stared at the speaker. "Tommy, is that you?" "None other." "What have you got to do with this?" "Apart from helping Fiona design and build this plane, not a lot, unless you take into consideration her role as Director of THB Aircraft and owner of the intellectual property involved in this plane as well as several patents applications that are involved in it. So you see you can't steal the ideas and claim them as your own as you've been doing for years." "You can't prove any of that! I'll sue you for slander!" That was as good as an admission that he had been doing that and the other students looked at each other. "You won't win." Another voice, one that I'd never heard before. "I didn't believe this at first when Tommy told me about it but when he showed me proof that you had stolen his ideas I realised that it was true. Then when I asked around and found that you'd been cheating on me with your students I decided that enough was enough. Good-bye you miserable pig, your lawyers will be hearing from my lawyers." I realised that I had just met Penelope Hartley, Thomas' ex fiancé. My heart skipped a beat when they kissed before she left, would they be getting back together? "Don't worry, I'm not the slightest bit interested in her, besides she has someone else in mind." He told me over a celebratory champagne after we had officially christened THB001. We had decided to call this, our first plane the 'Peregrine' after the bird. Thomas needn't have worried about his in-bed performance. I might be biased but it was the best love making that I'd ever experienced, and I told him so, sometime between four and five the next morning as I came down from yet another orgasmic high. "I have you to thank for that." "Me?" "Yes you. That first night that we slept together and I told you that I hadn't had sex for a long time and that I didn't feel comfortable in myself and that you'd be disappointed in my performance or lack of performance, you didn't put any pressure on me. Well I do feel confident in myself again and for that I thank you, as for my performance you'll have to be the judge of that." "That first night you said that you wanted our first time to be perfect, it was." I had decided on its perfection at around the time that he inserted his rock hard cock into my quivering pussy. I had been waiting hours for this moment, suffering through hours of caressing, kissing, fondling, fingering, tickling, teasing foreplay, hours of begging him for it before he pushed slowly into me for what seemed like hours of glorious sex. The fact that I was hopelessly and passionately in love with him might have affected my judgement somewhat. I lay beside him idly fondling his balls, waiting for him to harden before I took the initiative. "What are we going to do now?" "I get the impression that you're going to attack me as soon as he regains his composure." "But after that, after this glorious night of loving. I know that I've passed and that I'll graduate, I have a great job with the best boss in the world, life couldn't get much better than this, but there's one problem that we have to face, my mother. My father won't be a problem, he knows about my love for you, yes I told him weeks ago, and he approves, but mother is a total snob and she doesn't want me to be involved with you." "You mean with the 'Fool on the Hill'?" "You know about that?" "Of course, who do you think started it? It was my way of hiding in plain sight. As for your mother, here's what we'll do. As soon as possible we'll get married, (YES!) it'll have to be a Registry Office job and we'll have to rustle up a couple of witnesses not connected with your family, and then I want to see the expression on your mother's face when you graduate." "What do you mean?" "It's going to be a surprise even for you. As for time between now and then, we'll live together but keep our marriage a secret." Try as much as I could I couldn't get him to tell me what the surprise was going to be, I even threatened to withhold sex until he told me, but that didn't work, I loved him and his cock too much to abstain for any length of time. I never ceased to be surprised by him sexually. "Are you sure that you weren't dropping into brothels when you went into town?" "Of course I'm sure, cross my heart and hope to die." "Don't you dare!" "What, cross my heart?" "No, die stupid." Graduation day, there I stood with the other graduates in our caps and gowns waiting to be called onto the stage and be presented with our certificates by the Dean. I had kissed my mother and father and left them in the crowd of proud parents, kissed Thomas and left him standing in the wings while I waited for my name. I heard someone call out "The Honourable Lady Fiona Halifax Breckinridge, Baroness." There was an expectant pause and then I felt someone nudge me in the back. "Go on, they've called your name." It was Thomas. He'd arranged for them to call my married name, and the title that I hadn't realised went with it, instead of my maiden name. Now I knew what the surprise was. I walked out under a blaze of flash lights and accepted my certificate and thought that that was the end of it, but no, I also had to go out and accept several other academic prizes that resulted from our work on THB001. Then there were the interviews. Somehow or other, and it couldn't have been my mother who told them because she didn't know Thomas and I were married until just now, the media had got to hear about this Baroness who had designed and built an aeroplane. It must have been a slow news day because they had all flocked to the graduation to see for themselves. Of course mother had to get in on the act, she tried to muscle in on all of the photos and was to be found hovering in shot when I was being interviewed for TV news services. What a day! Watching my mother fawning all over Thomas and telling him that she had always realised that he was a good man and one that she was happy for me to marry, my father, and Thomas' fellow conspirator, kept a low profile but he couldn't wipe the smile from his face. He and Thomas were as thick as thieves and it wasn't until we got home that I realised why. My father was a builder and was responsible for the work that had just got under way for the restoration of the outside of Breckinridge Manor. It was only then that I found out that he had done the refurbishment of the interior. Talk about keeping things secret, I wondered, at around midnight, as Thomas slept beside my adrenaline charged body, what other secrets they had kept from me. It wasn't until I came to the conclusion that I didn't care about secrets that I was able to get to sleep, that and waking Thomas up and making love to him again. The Fool on the Hill "I don't know what you are saying, Tom," she moaned. "Why the riddles?" "I am saying that if I were going to be unfaithful to you, I would do it in such a manner as to not arouse any suspicion. My actions are far too obvious to be those of a person having an affair," I assured Kate. "I would be very normal and asking you why you were behaving differently, to put you on the defensive and deflect any suspicion that might be directed my way." It was too dark to be certain, but it seemed that Kate turned pale at my remark. She began to sob in the chair. I closed the door behind me. Work was going great. I had been so sick about my marriage that I refused to worry about my job. I just made the obvious decisions and didn't worry about how the others liked me. It was strange that the infidelity of Kate's made work simple and less stressful. That night when I got home, Kendra, Kate's sister, was at the house. I looked around for Kate, but Kendra told me she had gone to visit their ailing mother and had asked Kendra to make dinner for me. I wondered if Kate was seeing that guy again, but realized Kate would not dare get Kendra to cover for her. Kendra was an MD and it seemed odd she would bother to make dinner for me. "How is the psychiatry going these days, Kendra? I asked. "Are you glad you finally settled on a field?" I asked. "That is for certain, Tom. Now if I could settle on a man!" she laughed. Kendra was 37 and divorced for a few years. Her husband had taken up with a nurse while she was working late hours. When she discovered it, She tossed him out. "Well your cooking should help," I told her as I sat at the table. Everything smells great! The way to a man's heart." That was when I noticed that Kendra wasn't wearing a bra. Her ample breasts were very apparent through the tight tank top she had on. I had never realized how big Kate's little sister's tits were. "That shirt could be an even better short cut," I suggested. "I haven't ever seen a doctor that looked that good in a tank top!" Kendra smiles as she brought the food to the table. "Thanks, Tom. It is sweet of you to notice and to not be crude as you compliment me. I appreciate that," she added. I was quick to respond, "And I appreciate the delicious dinner with such a sexy cook. This is great!" With that we ate and chatted for an hour. I helped Kendra clean up the dishes and offered her some wine. "I'll have a little," she said. "Remember, I have to drive an hour home." "I am sure Kate would love to have you stay," I told her. "Did she say what time she would be home?" "Just that it would be late. She invited me to stay, but I have to work pretty early, so I will go home tonight," replied Kendra. We chatted for a while. I enjoyed Kendra's company. For a shrink, she was a regular person. I offered her a second glass and she accepted. Suddenly, she reached down and pulled her shirt over her head, exposing a set of perfect tits, with large, hard nipples. I just stared. I felt my cock grow as I gazed at Kendra's body. She came over and sat in my lap. I had no idea what she was doing or why. "Do you like my tits, Tom?" she asked. "Would you like to kiss them? I was in complete shock. I had a beautiful woman; even if was my wife's sister, sitting topless in my lap. I knew she had to feel my cock poking her ass. I simply nodded in answer to her question. Kendra took her tits in her hands and brought them to my mouth. I began to kiss and suck on her nipples with great gusto. It was a dream come true. "I feel how hard you cock is, Tom. Do you want to make love to me?" she asked. "There is nothing that would be sweeter, Kendra. You are beautiful and desirable as all hell, but I will not do that. I am married to your sister and I would be the worse prick on the planet to that to either of you," I told her. "You really should put your shirt on while I am still thinking clearly." Kendra reached down and squeezed my rampant erection. I had not had any sexual relief for a long time and with her topless and squeezing my cock, I came in my pants. "Wow, you were turned on, weren't you?" Kendra whispered. "I want you to know that I respect you and think more of you than you can imagine. Sis is very lucky to have a man like you." The mention of her sister must have caused my face to change. Kendra picked up on it immediately as she pulled her shirt back on. "What is wrong between you two, Tom?" she questioned. "Let me confess that Kate and I planned this little seduction tonight. She told me that either sex made you ill, or she made you ill. I have seen enough to know that sex is no problem for you. I was just going to tease you enough to see if you had to run to the bathroom and vomit." I sat in total shock at Kendra's revelation. Of course! It all made sense. I should have known something was up, and I was the sucker. "I guess you will be able to laugh at me for years now," I groaned. "I should have known a woman like you would never fall for a guy like me. I was caught up in a fantasy. Now I have played the fool." "You are so wrong, Tom. Your conduct was so male, but so honorable! I am the one that behaved badly and I feel guilty. It was a bad idea and I certainly should know have known better," Kendra apologized. "It was just that Kate was so worried about you, and your relationship. I have always admired your marriage and devotion to each other. I have never seen two people so much in love, even after many years together. You have raised two great kids and are so lucky!" "Kendra, there is a very real problem, but I dare not tell you. I understand your loyalty to your sister and love you for it, but I must steer a very careful course. I have to think about how to proceed," I confided. "Wow, Kate was right, wasn't she?" Kendra asked. "Intimacy with her makes you ill. Tom, I am an expert remember? I know what would cause that reaction from you. You needn't tell me any more. I just might have to bitch-slap big sister." "Kendra, I can't even think straight any more, except you do have a wonderful set of tits. I am going to bed now, if you don't mind," I told her. "Please let yourself out. Goodnight." "Poor Tom! I'll make this work out, I promise. Just keep loving Kate," she pleaded. I was awakened some time later when Kate came to bed. She remained on her side of the bed and I fell back to sleep. "You will be at the affair and you will bring your wife," stated Henry. "There are no excuses and no options. I will be formally announcing your promotion and you can be modest if it suits you, but you will be there, understood?" I nodded my assent and began to stew over this new problem. I had to attend the party and Kate was expected to go with me. If she did not, all kinds of rumors would spread, and I was still unwilling to accept the end of my marriage. "Kate, we are expected, or required really, to be at the company spring dinner Saturday evening," I began. "Henry told me there was no dodging it." "Okay, but why would you want to miss it and why would Henry Mackin care if you did?" asked Kate. "Why is it so important all of a sudden?" "He is going to announce that I have been promoted to an upper management position," I explained. "He expects us to be there for the announcement." "Tom! Sweetheart! That is wonderful news!" cried Kate. "Why would you even think about not going? I will be proud to be at your side, darling. You deserve the promotion for how hard you have worked for the company." "I was just worried about all the fuss and how everything will go," I replied. "I guess it is just nerves." "Maybe the stress from worrying about the promotion has been your problem," Kate suggested. She was truly happy about this turn of events, but I was in knots. There were too many unknowns to suit me. I didn't know everyone at the company, or what they would tell Kate. I steeled myself for the night. "I have to say, Kate, that Tom took the bull by the horns the very day I told him he was being promoted and placed in charge of several important accounts," chuckled Henry Mackin. We were seated next to Henry and his wife at the dinner party the company held every spring. Kate was beautiful in a simple black dress that showed her assets off. I was trying to keep Kate from mingling too much. I made sure we were almost late and arrived just in time to be seated. The cocktail hour was a problem I had avoided. I was beginning to think I might make it through the whole affair with no problems. Then Henry decided to chat with Kate as we dined! "I'll not soon forget that Wednesday afternoon. It was the first of the month and I invited Tom to dinner with me at the Sheridan. He had no idea who all would be at the hotel that day, did you, Tom?" asked Henry. I just shook my head in response. Kate seemed suddenly uneasy as Henry went on. "I told Tom about his promotion and who would be on his team. Stop me if Tom already told you this story, Kate," Henry offered. Kate just shook her head and sat very still. "Tom gets up and heads out to the bathroom in the lobby. He is gone for quite a while and comes back all pale and agitated looking. I was wondering if he had gotten some bad seafood or something," droned Henry. "It turns out he must have been stewing over one of the people we put on his team, because when he finally returned, he point blank told me that this guy named Howard was not going to work for him. He gave me some very good reasons and it has all worked out great. He has been doing the job for several weeks now and the results have been very favorable. "Are you feeling alright, Kate?" asked Henry. "You look a bit pale. Do I have this affect on the whole family?" Kate was very pale and agitated. I actually felt badly for her, but that is the price you pay for lies and cheating. It would be even more common without the pain and suffering it creates, wouldn't it. Kate excused herself and went to the ladies room. When she returned she seemed to be feeling better and made an effort to smile to everyone that congratulated us. "You are Tom's wife?" asked Steve Whiting. "Did he tell you how he physically tossed Howard out of our work room? We were lucky to get out of the way before Howard went flying past. Then he picked his ass off the floor and lurched down the hall! Tom became an urban legend that day!" Kate looked at me as Steve filled her in. It was as if she was seeing me for the first time. I guess the story surprised her. "It is obvious that Tom isn't a guy to mess around with," added Steve. "He seems so calm and quiet, but when he is pissed, he is a dangerous dude!" I thanked Steve for sharing that story and moved on. Now I was concerned that Kate would worry that I would kill her in her sleep. I had hoped to keep that story from her. It was after eleven when we left for home. As I drove, Kate turned to me and asked, "Tom, why have you been keeping so much from me? You have been promoted for several weeks and you had a bit of an altercation with another man at work, yet you never told me. You used to share everything with me. Why has that changed?" "Kate, I believe it is a two-way street. I have to believe you have not been sharing everything with me. My hesitation is a natural extension of your unwillingness to talk to me," I reasoned. "You have suggested before that I have things to tell you. Why do you think that? I tell you everything of interest that happens at my work," she insisted. "Then I have to say that I am just starting to define 'things of interest at work' the same way you do," I answered. "Kendra told me that you don't get sick around her," Kate changed the subject. "She said you were hot to trot when she came on to you. That indicates that I actually make you sick. Kendra told me there must be something that you associate with me that triggers it. Why don't you tell me what that is?" I just looked at Kate, my wife, lover, friend, and partner for so many years and felt as bad as I ever have. I wondered to myself if I would ever get over her infidelity. Was our marriage beyond repair? Did she even care? Did I care anymore? "Do you want a divorce, Kate?" I asked. She looked shocked and gave a gasp. Apparently it wasn't what she had been hoping to hear me say. "Why would you ever ask me that, Tom?" she cried. "Are you seeing someone else?" Women! She fucks some guy in a hotel and then asks me if I am having an affair. We were almost home and I was looking forward to ending the conversation. In the car I felt confined and forced to respond to Kate's questions. "I have told you before, I am completely faithful, unless you count Kendra showing me her tits and squeezing my cock and making me cum in my pants," I replied. "I asked you if you wanted a divorce. Maybe you want to pursue other relationships. You are not very happy with the one we've had the past year or so." "Past year?" Kate repeated. "We have only had trouble for the past month or so. Why give up so easy?" "Kate, you have not been satisfied with me for longer than that," I told her. "You may as well admit it. You are not satisfied with me and you might want greener pastures." Kate was staring at me as I spoke. Tears were forming in her eyes. "That is just not true," she asserted. "I have always felt you were a good father, husband, and provider!" "Just not much in the old sack, though?" I questioned. "Where is this coming from, Tom?" Kate demanded. "Have I ever complained? No, I haven't" We were pulling in the drive as she spoke. I parked the car, opened the door, and formed my reply. "Kate, sleeping with someone else is tantamount to an extreme criticism of a man's sexual abilities," I calmly answered. "Ask any man if being a cuckold increases his confidence in his talents in bed!" Kate burst into tears as I stepped out of the car and strode into the house. I went straight to the guestroom, locked the door, and went to bed. I didn't sleep for a long time. I had finally spilled the beans and now Kate would decide what she wanted to do. It was very possible she would want a divorce now, and I decided I didn't care. The thing was; if I didn't care, why was I so sad? I got up around 7 and decided to have some coffee and wait for Kate to wake up. We had to decide our next step. When I stepped from the bedroom I saw Kate sitting in a chair, facing the bedroom door. She stood as soon as I came out. "Kendra!" she called. "Wake up!" I heard a groan from the sofa and saw Kendra sitting up. It was obvious she had been sleeping there. I tried to clear my head and understand what I was seeing. "Tom, I called Kendra last night after you went to bed and told her the whole story. I hoped she would have a simple cure, a pill or something that would make everything better. She kept falling back on the truth as the only possible remedy. I resisted that treatment for a long time already, but I am going to try it now," Kate rasped. "I ask that you listen to it before you decide what you want to do." "I am only here to help two people I love very much, Tom," added Kendra. "I want to give my professional service and personal help. Please listen to Kate!" I sat down on the end of the sofa and waited. "I know now why I made you sick all the time. You must have seen us at the Sheridan that day. Ever since that day, you vomit if I get too close, and I understand why," added Kate. "Tom, I betrayed you, your love and your trust. I did sleep with Harold Wright that day." Even though I already knew it, Kate's admission hit me like a hammer. Before she could continue, I jumped to my feet and rushed into the bathroom. It had been hours since I had eaten, but I did my best to remove any traces. It took a few minutes, but I cleaned up and returned to the living room. Kendra was holding Kate to her as she cried, almost hysterically. Tears were running down her cheeks and I felt a need to comfort her as I had when her father died and she cried so. The problem was, I couldn't hold her without getting sick. I sat back down and waited. Gradually Kate calmed down, blew her nose and resumed her explanation. "I am so sorry, Tom. The air did quit that day, but before noon. We were told to go home, so a bunch of us went to the Sheridan for their cheap Monday buffet. Since we didn't have to go back to work, we had few drinks. Before long everyone was gone but Harold and me. Somehow he convinced me we should get a room and, well.. try some 'afternoon delight' as he called it." Kate sobbed as she continued, "The truth was there was no delight. He used me and finished in a few minutes. I was starting to sober up and he wanted to try it again. I refused and got dressed. He acted like he owned me and I was almost as sick as I have made you. He escorted me down the elevator and even kissed me by the bar. I think he did that to let anyone watching know that he had fucked me. We went into the bar, but I was so upset and ashamed I told him I had to go home. He went out and put me in a cab to go back to work to get my car." "You were there that day, receiving a wonderful promotion and found me slipping out of a hotel room like a whore," she wailed. "It should have been perfect for you, but I ruined that, too. When I got home, I decided to make amends and be the best wife you could ever want. That cheered me up when I decided that, but you were so grim that day. Now I know why. Still I tried to show you I loved you, but you got ill. I wondered if you sensed him on me and I had nightmares about you smelling his scent on me and throwing me out." Her eyes were dry and she was looking directly into my eyes as she went on, "I have not made any contact with Harold since that day and he has been gentleman enough to leave me alone. It may be difficult to believe, but I love you, Tom, and only you. I will understand if you want to divorce me, but I pray that you can forgive me. Kendra has all but kicked my ass. She told me what I already know. I could never find a better friend or lover and I am the world's worse jackass!" "Kate, that fucker, Harold, is not a gentleman," I explained. "I told him I would pretty much kill him and his family if he ever came near you again!" Kendra and Kate both dropped their jaws at my revelation. It was obvious that Harold had taken my threat seriously. "Do you understand how I feel about you, Kate? I physically threatened a man that outweighed me by 30 pounds, had four inches on me, and was more than a few years younger than I in the lobby of a downtown hotel. I was more than willing to fight him till one of us was out cold or dead!" I searched for the right words and went on, "I would give you my life if necessary, but I will not give you to another man. You have only to ask and you will be rid of me, but as long as you are my wife, no other man will have you, ever! Can you live with that?" Kendra began to blubber and Kate stood up and held her hand out to me. I stepped to her and held her close. She sobbed uncontrollably into my chest. My stomach began to churn. If I hadn't just purged it, I knew would be headed for the bathroom. "I cannot stop my stomach from getting upset, Kate," I admitted. "I would be in the bathroom now if I hadn't just been there. I don't know what to do. I still love you, but I can't be close to you." Kendra stopped blubbering long enough to offer her services. "I'll come over every evening and work with you guys. As long as you want to get over this, I will help. It was two evenings later that Kendra stopped in. "What I propose is not text book, but I spoke to Kate and she is willing to try it. Will you trust me, Tom?" she asked. "I do trust you completely," I answered. "I just want to get back to normal and not just be able to be close to my wife but to be able to make love to her." The Fool on the Hill "Okay, Kate, take your clothes off," ordered Kendra. To my surprise, Kendra also began to strip. Soon both sisters were naked in front of me, and my cock sprang to life. It was a sight like I had never imagined! "Kate, walk over to Tom," directed Kendra. Keep going until there is an adverse reaction." Kate was almost with in reach when I felt my stomach start to churn. I contemplated drinking Drano just to get even! I looked to Kendra. "Stop! Stay where you are, Kate," said Kendra. "Maybe you would like to see these puppies a little closer, Tom." With that she sauntered across the room to me, offering her breasts as she walked. My stomach stopped complaining immediately as I watched. Kendra came over and sat on my lap. She put her tits in my face and I knew I was expected to taste them, so I did. If this was therapy, I should have done it years ago! "Kate, come over here and join us," ordered Kendra. "See how hungry your man is. Feed him." Kate leaned in to my face and offered her nipples to my lips. I was noticing how similar the sister's breasts were, yet trying to memorize the subtle differences. Then my belly felt a little queasy and Kendra quickly pushed her tits into my face again. Soon I was sucking four tits like a starving babe. I felt my cock being handled and I didn't even try to determine who was doing it. "Stand up Kate. We need to get this stud out of his clothes," insisted Kendra. "Let's see if that is a gun in his pocket or if he is glad to see us. Close your eyes, you lucky bastard." I stood there with my eyes closed as my clothing was removed from my body. I stood naked with two very lovely women and one very hard cock! "Now, Tom, open your eyes and walk with us to the bedroom. Put your arms around us, Squeeze our tits if you like." I did. I noticed that if I alternated my attention between the two, my stomach would stay pretty calm, but when I concentrated on Kate's nipples too long, my stomach would initiate evacuation. Soon I was lying on my back and Kendra was sucking my cock. I was almost ready to cum when she suddenly stopped and started kissing me. At the same time, I felt a mouth on my cock again. I knew it had to be Kate, but with Kendra kissing me, I avoided any feelings of nausea. Kendra slid up and lowered her delicious looking pussy on my face. I didn't need to be told what to do as I began lapping at her sex. At the same time I felt my cock being covered by a velvet vice. Kate was riding me as I serviced Kendra. In just a couple minutes I was ready to erupt. Then I heard both Kendra and Kate start moaning. I felt them both orgasm as I started draining my nuts into Kate's pussy. My stomach had no say at the moment as I finally found relief with my wife. Slowly, Kendra removed her pussy from my lips and sighed. Kate then lay across my chest and kissed me. I was past feeling anything and my stomach seemed unsettled but kept its complaints to a minimum. "You two look so good together, Sis!" exclaimed Kendra. "I think we are on the road to recovery, but I would be remiss if I didn't stop in regularly to follow up," she smiled.