65 comments/ 108435 views/ 20 favorites Victor and Isabelle By: Matt Moreau "Damn that feels good," she said. He pulled out and felt her vagina squeeze him trying to hold him in. He laughed. "Like it do you? Tell me again how much better than Victor I am," he said. "No comparison, honey; pencil dick can't hold a candle to you. His little thingy just doesn't do it for me. Come on, sock it to me; don't tease me," she said. He ploughed into her once more; soon he was ramming her to the point of pain, but she didn't cry out. Her only sounds were low guttural grunts and growls as she began to stiffen and shudder in her third orgasm of the night. As they were dressing he stopped and looked over at her. "Why don't you just leave him and come with me," he said. "We like the same things. We work in the same office. We're meant for each other. I mean a truck driver for chryssakes!" "Yes, he used to drive a truck, but he's a good guy, Roger; and, he's a businessman now making a whole lot of scratch. And, for now, we keep him on a short leash and let him think he's—adequate." She smiled, "Like I was saying, he brings home five times what we do put together. Little dick, big business brain that's my Victor," she laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Gotta give him that, I mean the money part. But, you're his inspiration, Isabelle. Without you he'd fall apart in a New York minute. The only reason he works that hard is because he thinks you love him. If and when he finds out different, well, he won't be able to handle it. I'm telling you," he said, "I know the type. Marries out of his league and then spends the rest of their—his—natural life trying to measure up," he said. She laughed again. "Yes, I do believe he would fall apart if I left him," said Isabelle, "he's very sensitive. But, in all fairness, economically he has succeeded, and that big time. I do not want to be messin' with a meal ticket like my Victor." "You know, together we'd be a heckuva team, Isabelle. If the business was yours..." he started. "Don't even go there, Roger. I don't know the business and neither do you. We'd play hell making a go of it I'm certain. So, like I said, for now we have to be content with what we have and that's all," she said. He sighed. "I suppose—for now at least," he said. "But, I'm going to get some of the stuff we talked about worked on. If and when he ever signs off on it, and I know you could get him to; well, it'd be point, set, match to us. Think about it." "Yes, yes, but even if he did give me controlling interest, he'd still be the man to run it, not us," she said. "Roger, you're a paralegal. I'm a paralegal. There's no way we know how to do the kinds of things necessary to run a shipping enterprise like his." ****** "You hear that, Lan," said his sister. "Mom's having sex with that other man. And, they're talking a lot of trash about daddy." "What are we going to do?" said Lan. Though younger by a year, fourteen year old Lisa was way the leader of their two person gang. "We gonna tell dad? We have to tell dad." "No, we're going to tell mom that we know. She'll stop if she thinks that dad will divorce her. If she knows we know—well—she'll be scared to have sex with that man," said Lisa. Landry James Shelby looked dubious but nodded his willingness to go along with what his sister said. The two siblings moved quietly back down the hallway and exited the house. They would talk to their mother a bit later, maybe after dinner. Their dad was on a business trip and that would give the two of them the chance they needed to carry out their plan. ****** Dinner had been quieter than usual. Isabelle Shelby noticed. "Lisa? Landry? Is something wrong dears?" she said. They were just finishing the last of the meatloaf that their mother had prepared for them. "The meatloaf was really good, mom," said Landry. His mother smiled. "Well, thank you, Landry. I'm glad you liked it," she said. "Lisa?" "It was fine, mom," she said. Landry looked at his sister. He was clearly wishing he was someplace else, like maybe Ethiopia. Isabelle Shelby looked at her daughter and had a bad feeling. A feeling based on nothing, but a bad feeling nonetheless. "Lisa, is something wrong?" "Yes, mom, something very bad is wrong momma," said the fourteen year old girl. "Lisa, what is it, dear? Tell momma. I'm sure we can figure something out. We'll get your dad to help if necessary. Okay?" she said. "Dad can't know about this mom. It's kinda about him," said Lisa. Her mom waited. Her eyes were the more narrowing the longer she had to wait. "Mom, me and Landry; well, we saw you and that man having sex today. Having sex momma! Momma, you and that awful man did very bad things. And—and—you said very bad things about daddy, you and that man," said Lisa. "Momma, how could you talk like that about daddy! It was very bad, momma." She had spoken very fast, but her words were stunningly clear. The older woman paled. "Wha—wha—what are you..." she started. "Momma, we saw you," said Lisa. "We heard you too. We heard all of it. Right, Lan?" Her brother nodded though he clearly wanted no part of the goings-on. Their mother sank into a chair and stared at the two children. Izzie Shelby felt her world collapsing. "Children—it's just something that grownups—oh my God..." The older woman was beside herself with embarrassment and fear, yes, fear. "Mom, it was bad stuff. Really bad stuff, momma. You gotta stop it momma. You gotta," said Lisa. The girl looked toward her so far silent brother; he got the message. "Mom, we don't want daddy to know. We don't want you and dad to divorce like Millie Johnson's mom and dad did. Millie cries every night mom. She told me so," said Landry. Isabelle, looked at her two children. Her mind was a cacophony of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Her Victor! Jesus, he would divorce her if he found out what she'd been doing—and saying. The real truth was that she didn't want a divorce. Roger was great in bed but almost useless in any other way. But, Izzie Shelby was a realist if nothing else. Victor was going to find out now. Her children were too young not to give her away, even if she dropped Roger; Victor would still find out. It might be later rather than sooner, but it was inevitable now that the children knew. There was just no gainsaying it. The children didn't want them to divorce, but having seen Roger and her; they had ensured that a divorce was a certainty. She had to talk to Roger. Roger would know what to do; he had to! He'd think of something, some way to make sure that she didn't come out of the divorce penniless and without hope. "Okay, Lisa, Lan, I will stop seeing mister—the other man. I am so sorry children that you had to see something like that today. I don't know, but when you grow up—well—maybe you'll understand. I hope so. And, no, I don't want to divorce your dad either," she said. It was a lie. But it was one she'd had to tell the children to gain the time she'd need to set things up and assure the success of her not yet mature plans. The two teenagers rushed to their mother and the little group hugged. Her mother didn't seem to notice the troubled eyes of her daughter. ****** "I don't know why you're so down, Izzie. Frankly, this is an opportunity for us. I mean for you and me to..." started Roger. She glared at him. Her lover continued. "The man's an old guy. One foot in the grave already. He loves you. You got him totally pussywhipped. Just get him to sign the documents. Make him believe he's protecting you on account of he is so much older. Giving you nominal—though real—control of the business will protect you and ensure that you will not have to fight his relatives or anyone else if he should have a heart attack or something. Let him know that he will still have operational control; you'll not be interfering with the day to day business per se. He'll go for it; I know it." "Roger! One, I don't cotton to hurting that good man. Worthless in bed, but a good man; that's my Victor. We should never have been talking smack about him; that was a mistake, a big one. The only reason we are considering doing what—well considering what we're planning is because he is certain to find out what we were saying about him. The cheating on him I could get him to forgive; he is a pussywhipped little guy, and he loves me enough for me to sell him on forgiving me that. But the words—never. Two, we may get the business and the rest of the stuff we've talked about, but running it, the business—well—it ain't gonna be no picnic that's all. Victor works really long hours, Roger. He works crazy hard. Sometimes he comes home so dragged out that he can't even get it up for me. Hell, that's the main reason you got your shot at me," she said. She was not smiling. "You ready to work that hard bud, that long?" "Iz, I will do whatever is necessary to make the business go," he said. "We'll hire someone to do the stuff that Victor does if we have to. You think he's the only one who knows how to move merchandise. There's a million like him out there." She stared at him. She knew he didn't get it, she knew that for sure. But, he did have a good idea about hiring someone who could do the job that her husband did. They'd have to pay whoever it was pretty good, but that was going to be the price they'd have to pony up for making the mistake of fucking each other in her Victor's marital bed. And there was one other thing that might play in their favor: two of Victor's male family members had died young—both of heart attacks. It was probably congenital. But, Victor had always pooh-poohed her questions on the subject. Now, she might be in a position to use that knowledge to get what she wanted. "Okay, get it done then, Roger. We're going to be screwing him over pretty good; let's at least not drag things out more than necessary, okay. Jesus, I feel like shit doing this to him. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why did we have to do it where the kids could see us like that. This whole thing is not going to sit well with them either. ****** "Nice to have you back, Mr. Shelby," said the secretary. "Nice to be back, Marge. We didn't go bankrupt or anything while I was gone, did we?" I said. "No sir, all's well. You did get a call from your wife; wanted to know when you'd be arriving. You maybe should get home, sir. The guys and me can handle it for a least one more day," she said smiling. "Yeah, it's going to be good getting home to the wife and kids. I sure as hell miss them when I'm on these jaunts. I'll be headin' out in a few. "Have Eric join me in the conference room, okay? I have a few loose ends to tie up before I can get out of here," I said. "You got it, boss," she said. ****** The dinner was among the best I'd had in forever: boiled potatoes, pork adobo, steamed lima beans, and a frosty beer. After eating restaurant food for two weeks, I was ready for some of Izzie's home cooking. Izzie may have looked like a runway model but she cooked like Julia Childs. I poured the last of my second beer into the mug and sipped it. "Honey, that was fantastic. I have been dying for some of your home cooking. "So, how's it been going for you these two weeks," I said. "Good. Real good," she said. I detected something in her tone that told me she had more to say than she so far had. "Honey?" "Victor—I—I—can I talk to you about something that's been bothering me for a while?" she said. "Sure," I said. "You know you can. Anything." She sighed. "Vic, your healthy as a horse. But—you work like one too, like a draft animal actually. I worry," she said. I started to say something, but she waved me off. "No, let me finish, okay, honey. Please." I nodded. "I worry that you might have a heart attack, or a stroke. And don't laugh; it happened to both your dad and your younger brother; and it killed your dad at 52 and your brother at 43! "I was talking about you to my boss the other day. He told me that if you were, you know..." "A candidate for health problems?" I said, interrupting her. "Well, yes. Anyway, he said that I could be in a world of hurt if, God forbid, you were to die and leave me in the middle of a battle for control of our business. I'd win in the end, he told me, but it could be costly and there is even the remote possibility that I could lose, I mean lose the business," she said. I looked at her. She seemed genuinely concerned about things. "So what did your boss recommend? He did have a recommendation, right?" I said. "Yes, well, he said you could sign over nominal control of the business to me while you are still healthy. It would mean nothing in actuality; you'd still be running things, nobody can do what you do, certainly not me; but I would technically be the big boss," she giggled. "You know, like in the bedroom." I blushed. She did rule in the bedroom, and she was kinkier than a five dollar whore, and I loved it. "Honey, you're almost twenty years older than me. It makes no difference to me or us in our personal lives, but if anything happened to you—" she stopped talking and looked at me with wrinkled brow. "Give you control of the business? But I would still be running things? Doesn't sound too bad. Is it hard to do? I mean a ton of lawyer stuff and all?" I said. "No. It would only be a bit of paperwork actually. My boss would write it up. The company lawyer, your lawyer, would look it over. We'd both sign and that would be it," she said. Maybe fifteen minutes, maybe an hour, and it would be done," she said. "Get it done," I said. "If I were to retire, which I am sorta planning on doing in a couple of years; I'd love it if you could take over and manage things. It would make me feel a lot better about—well, leaving you—I mean after..." She came to me and gave me a huge hug. "Hopefully not for many years to come, my husband. I love you so much," she said. The sex that night was good enough to have restarted the Trojan War; I knew for absolutely dead-mortal certain that the legendary Helen had nothing on my wife. Isabelle was right about the paperwork and the lawyering part; it took about half an hour for the whole show. Afterwards, everybody shook hands. Some guy, a paralegal named Christiansen, seemed anxious to hold everybody's spear while the festivities played out; I figured him for some kind of bootlicker. My own lawyer wanted to put in a defensive clause, as he called it, in the text stating my rights in case of a divorce or other disagreement, but I shook him off. Isabelle and I would take care of anything that came along. Plus, worse case scenario, a divorce, I knew damn well that she could not hope to do what I was doing, or that damn few others could either. Bottom line: I was needed, really, indispensible. Well, I thought I was. Problem was, as I was about to discover, there were others that did not agree with my assessment. ****** "I'm a little concerned too, Lisa," said Landry. "I heard mom on the phone today like I said, and if I heard her right; dad has made her a big boss in the company." Lisa nodded. "Add that to the conversation I heard on the phone tonight, Lan, and things don't look too good. Mom said something to somebody, don't know who, about a divorce. I don't know if it's a divorce of her from dad or what; but I'm really scared, Lan," said Lisa. "Do you think we should tell dad, now?" said Lan. "I don't know; I don't know. If we do, and we're thinking wrong...," said Lisa. "Yeah, I know. It wouldn't be good. I guess we do have to wait and see, find out more. I don't know," said Landry. "I'll say this though, it was a good idea you had about us trying to listen in on mom when she was on the phone. I real good idea." ****** I was stunned at first. Signing over ownership of the company to my wife, had made no difference in company operations or the success of the company overall. Things were good, until today. Today, the proverbial shit hit the fan. It was supposed to be a good day. I'd gotten solid contracts with two firms that needed our shipping services. I was feeling real good. I was just coming out of a meeting with the representatives of one of the companies when a stranger approached and handed me an envelope. "You're served," he'd said. I looked at him like he had two heads. My business associates didn't seem to notice as they had been preceding me into the lounge. I tore open the manila package and stared dumfounded at the contents: petition for divorce! Going inside, I begged off and headed back to my room. I made the call, or tried to, several times. No answer. So that was the deal. I was being fucked over by my woman. Oh yeah, fool I had been, snookered I had been, and now about to be divorced from the only woman I had ever loved. The coldness of it hurt me more than the thing itself. Nothing. No conversation, no please forgive me buts. Nothing, just a process server, and a moment of horrible hurt frozen forever in time and burned into very fabric of my soul. The interesting thing was, that for the moment, I felt mellow. Kinda like they say some cancer patients feel when their time nears. I didn't hurry back. I stayed a couple of extra days figuring out what I could or should do. But, in the end, I had to return. After the plane landed, I didn't go home. I guessed I didn't have one to go home to in any event. Oh, I was half owner; legally I could go home, at least as far as I knew. But, if she were there? And, she likely would be—no—I didn't want to face that, not yet. There hadn't been any restraining order in the papers that the process server had dumped on me, but I was sure there soon would be if I tried to get her in a face to face; my wife hung tight with a mess of lawyers. I decided to go to my office. "Hi Jerry," I said to the security guard. I'd hired Jerry when he'd gotten out of the slam for drug possession. He was a friend of mine from my driving days. I paid him twice the going rate. He owed me. "Hi Victor," he said. "Vic—Mr. Shelby, you can't go in sir. The owner's orders." "Jerry? Huh?" "Vic, it's your wife. We all know she's screwing you over. The cops inside say it's all legal. I can't let you in," he said. "There are cops inside?" I said. "Yes, sir, your wife had them come. She knew you'd likely be by, and she is making sure you don't try to make things hard for her, or hurt her as she told them. I heard her say that to them. That's the truth Mr. Shelby," he said. I nodded. "Mr. Shelby—we all know it's bullshit. It makes us sick." "I'm Victor to you, Jerry. Drop the mister Shelby stuff, okay?" I said. "And thanks." "Sir—Victor—thank you, sir, for understanding. You know I owe you. But, I have a family now..." "It's okay, Jerry. You do need to protect your family. I have no problem with you. Good luck." Stunned and bitter, I turned and headed out and away. I didn't know it at the time, but my wife had been watching from her office window as I talked with my old friend. She wasn't alone. ****** "I wonder what will happen to him now," she said. "He'll be all right, and so will we," said the man. "He'll try to see the children, you know. When he finds out that they're in boarding school, he is not going to be happy," said Isabelle. "Roger, I feel like shit doing this to him. He didn't deserve any of it. We did, but he didn't and doesn't. I have a bad feeling." "Your words, Isabelle: 'He's a brain.' He'll do fine. It's us who have to be doing the work now. But we have an edge, old Victor didn't have," he said. "An edge?" she said. "Yes, your good looks. When those customers come, all you have to do is charm 'em into shipping with us. The men in the warehouse can do the rest. Who's that straw boss of Victor's again?" he said. "Eric Ross," she said. Used to be a driver. Victor hired him years ago. He's always been his right hand man," said Isabelle. Victor and Isabelle "We'll need to be talking to him. At least for the moment, he's gonna be our operations guru. Maybe give him an incentive to do his best. A raise usually works in situations like this," he said. "Victor never believed in raises. His incentives were always bonuses for doin' a good job. Bonuses yes, raises no," she said. ****** "Horowitz didn't go for it?" said Roger. "No. He said thanks but no thanks or words to that effect," said Isabelle. "Some kind of religious nut, I guess. He's the third since we took over: the third to turn me down for a date that is. So I guess, lover, that my outrageously good looks aren't the asset you thought they'd be. Sorry about that. "Oh, and he said he'd have to think over his shipping contract with us before he renewed. Just a technicality, he said." "Jesus, what's the matter with these people your husband did business with. They a bunch of eunuchs or something?" "Maybe I'm just not the catch you think I am, lover. I'm thirty-eight years old. Not over the hill exactly, but the crest of the hill is definitely in sight," she said, laughing. "Nonsense, you're the best lookin' chick in this burg. We've just run into a bunch of deadheads, or dead dicks" said Roger. ****** "I hate this place," said Lan. "I wanna talk to dad. He needs to know what's been going on if he doesn't already." "Yes, and I want for us to talk to him too. But what can we do. Mom said dad was divorcing her because of what she and that man were doing. She said she confessed, and dad lost it and left her. I tried to call him at his office, but Margie said he didn't work there anymore. I guess he quit," said Lisa. "I can't believe that he left us. But mom said..." "He'll contact us somehow," said Landry. "He has to contact us. Mom won't stop him from talking to us; I'm sure of that." Lisa looked thoughtful. "We were sure she wouldn't cheat on daddy either, but she did. Right now I'm not taking anything for granted," she said. Landry took on a thoughtful expression too. "We could call Mr. Wheeler or Eric," said Lan. "Maybe they know how to get hold of daddy." Lisa looked at her brother and smiled. "You know, big brother, sometimes you do have your thinking cap on," she said. ****** I'd driven by the house to get my stuff and found a UHAUL truck parked out front. There was a note on the front door of the house when I showed up. The note stated that all of my stuff was in the truck and the keys were where I used to keep the extra set of house keys. She'd thought of everything, had my traitorous wife. I got the keys from under the sill flower pot and checked out the truck. Three large boxes were in the back. I figured I should have been grateful that she'd at least allowed me to have my personal things. Helluva deal. Fifteen years of marriage boiled down to this. Well fuck 'em. She and I would be talking at some point. I didn't know when, but we would, and I would be getting mine back; there was no fucking doubt about that. Oh no, no fucking doubt what so fucking ever! I had some money in a personal account that Izzie knew nothing about. It was just a small checking account that I used for the odd emergency: gifts, expenses where I needed cash while traveling. Eventually, I would need the cash for a new apartment that I'd have to move into. Well, at least I had a little money to work with. Except for that two grand and my car, I didn't have a pot to piss in. Surprise, surprise, my wife it seems had fired me without a compensation package. I did get my final check. It had been delivered to my older brother's house the day after the scene at the company gate. Fred had called my cell to tell me. Fred was my only remaining living relative. After dad and our younger brother had died, Fred and I had become very close, almost protective of each other. Fred, was an ex marine with a hardon against women in general for the way he had been treated by his ex. Hell, I could relate. Retired military, he spent most evenings at the Buscadero, a country western bar and grill where men with good manners were hard to find and women with virtue rarer still. My kind of place I decided as I sat waiting for a twenty-something serving girl to deliver my glass full of forgetfulness. "So, you okay?" said Fred taking stool next to mine. "Hi Fred. Yeah, more or less. Thanks for letting me hang out at your place till I can find a place to land," I said. He shook off my thanks; it had been a foregone conclusion that I would stay at his place, as it would have been the other way 'round had our situations been reversed. "Anyway, so Lisa called you? A boarding school, how fucking wonderful. Ojai is over a hundred miles away. Nice of good 'ole Izzie to let me know," I said. "The goddamn bitch is really socking it to me. I don't know what I ever did to her to make her want to hurt me like this. I mean my children for cryin' out loud! If she wanted a divorce, fine. I'd have cried a million tears for the loss of the love of my life and then gotten on with things. But the children! They should be neutral territory. Hell, I don't even have a job, and no access to my company's funds. I'm broke, goddamn it! How am I going to be able to get up there to that freakin' boarding school to see my babies on any regular basis," I said. "The divorce papers, the ones she dumped on me, proposed a once a month unsupervised visit with the children at their residence. I thought that meant the house. Hah!" "Whaddya figure to do," he said. "Like I said, the divorce agreement she's proposing said I had to see them at their place of residence. I didn't fight it because I thought their place of residence would be the house. But it's not the house. I'll have my lawyer looking into that. As far as I'm concerned the bitch set that one up in bad faith. Hell, what else could you call it, would anyone call it!" I said. "Don't know about no lawyer stuff, but I will help you see them for the foreseeable future if you will allow," he said. "Thanks bro. I'm broke, but not that broke. I've got a bit in the bank. I can get up there some way. I have to," I said. "Vic, a piece of advice," said Fred. "Yes?" I said. "Don't grill the kids when you go there. Don't make them choose up. Kids see more than we dumbass adults have the wit to imagine. They'll tell if it's right for them to, and not—well—if not," he said. I nodded; he made sense. ****** Going up to see my kids was a chore. I had to see them, but it was a chore. Plus my brother's words kept ringing in my ears. He was right, but I was not going to be the bad guy in this. Somehow I had to make that clear to my babies; I had to make it right without blaming the dirty doublecrossing whore that their mother was. Okay, I was bitter. I smiled. I had a random thought. Izzie and I had eaten at a Chinese restaurant that we both liked not too long before all this shit hit the fan. For no reason whatsoever, at least that I can recall, we'd started to talking with the owner: one Lee Shin Liang. The subject was the Chinese calendar. It seems that I was born in the year of the dragon. My wife? In the year of the rat! So fucking fitting. Maybe bitter didn't completely describe my current mental state. ****** We hugged for a full minute before letting each other go. "Whoa up there kids, one at a time." "We are so glad you came, dad," said Lan. Lisa squealed. "Daddy we missed you. You and mom...!" she started. "Lisa, today is about the three of us. Your mom will be up to see you too; I'm sure of that," I said. "Daddy, you—divorcing mom? How come," said Lisa. Boy this girl of mine didn't let any grass grow under feet, I thought as I recovered from my surprise. "Whoa again, girl, I am not divorcing your momma; she's divorcing me. Whatever else you may have thought, that one is not the reality. I got papers served on me while I was out of town. It was your mom that started the proceedings. That said..." I said. Lisa glanced at her brother, "Dad, mom said you'd found out about her...and that you...and that man..." Landry wasn't doing too well at expressing himself. "Found out what? What man? What?" I said. Lisa took a deep breath and took her time exhaling. "You didn't know did you dad. I mean about mom?" said Lisa. "Know what!" I said. I was beginning to lose my patience; I took a deep breath. "If you kids have something to say; please, get to it." "Dad, Landry and I—we caught mom—we heard them talking—dad, she was with another man. I think he works where she does. She must have been afraid that we'd tell you, so..." said Lisa. "So, she decided to preempt me, or more accurately, anything I might decide to do if you told me," I said. I was talking mainly to myself. "Dad, we are so sorry. We told her we didn't want you guys to divorce. We told her that we wouldn't..." said Lisa. "Wouldn't what? Tell me? Tell me what you'd seen—heard?" Both children looked down. I nodded. The picture was clearing up now. Suddenly I knew that the boarding school thing was a reaction to the concern that I would turn them, the kids, against her. Still, she must have known, known that the kids and I would be talking sooner or later. But—then—maybe she just figured she was short of options, kinda grasping at straws. The kids far away, made contact harder, and by inference marginally more advantageous to her purposes. My soon to be ex-wife sure was one mixed up cookie. I suppose the good news for her was that she got everything that had any significant value from our marriage because of the contract that did me out of my business. Bank accounts, the business, the house since it was owned by the company. And oh yes, temporary prime custody of the children, but all that could change; and, I'd be looking into my parental rights real soon. The divorce still had months to run before it was final. I knew that I could go after her on the business, now that I knew the real reason, which was not greed per se, as I know realized; but rather the cover up of a sleazy conspiracy. Evidence to which conspiracy the children, who had witnessed the sinners firsthand, had knowledge. To involve or not to involve the children, that was the question. There could only be one answer to that proposition—no. Short of a question of life and death, I would never put them in the middle of something like this. No, if the lovers were willing to destroy people's lives for money, I was not. Sooner or later they'd screw up and then they'd be payin' up for what they did. Oh yeah. Patience was not one of my virtues, but in this case I planned to be a very Job! I sighed, there was going to be some tough days ahead, at least for me. I knew she'd see to the welfare of the children; she wasn't that big of an asshole. But for me, it looked like lean times. Fifty-five years old: driving a truck again was not an option. Besides, I didn't have a truck. Try to catch on with someone else? Who'd want an old fart like me. Still, I did have some skills. I knew my way around diesels. A mechanic? Maybe. I knew one guy I probably could approach in that regard. ****** "That bad, Vic?" said Mac Wheeler. "I—" "You know I wouldn't be asking, Mac, if I had any options. But she pretty much screwed me out of everything with that bogus contract she made me sign. I may not even have any retirement anymore unless my lawyer can break the deal I made with her; she controls everything. Hah! It was to protect her that I signed the damn thing. What a laugh. He told me at the time that I should have included a defense clause in case of a divorce. But, oh no, I had to be the big shot. The trusting jackass of a husband. And the kids..." "Victor, you're hired, okay. I need a part time specialist," said Mac. "A specialist?" I said. "Yeah, someone to help train a couple of newbies I hired last month. Hard to get qualified folks these days. I was going to do some moonlighting on my own to train them, but with you coming on—well—it would only be part time. You know a couple of hundred a week; best I can do, Vic," he said. "But, you can fill your tank—I mean your car—here..." I interrupted him. "Yeah, at least I still have my car, damn little else, but I do have that," I said. Mac continued,"...and there's a little cubbyhole back of the big floor that you can shack up in if you want. It's got a small bathroom attached and a half-assed cot in it. I mean if you want." "Mac, thanks. I'll take you up on the cubby too. I've been shacking with my brother for the past few days, but..." I said. "Yeah, I understand. You can move in right now if you want," he said. I was able to stack the three large boxes of my stuff in the corner of the cubby; I could have left them at my brother's, but it was all stuff I'd need sooner or later, so I wanted it with me wherever I landed. The boxes being in there didn't leave me much room to move around, but the place was dry and it was secure. Laying on the cot, I thought back to all of the happenings. One day I had money, prestige, a loving wife, kids to hug me when I got home each night; the next day nothing. Helluva thing. I'd needed a job. Well, I'd gotten one, at least for the short term. I needed a place to crash; I had that now: five star accommodations it sure as hell wasn't, but it was free; proving thereby that there was an upside to everything. Now, if I could just find me a shoulder to cry on—preferably a female shoulder. ****** "Yes, have him come in Marge," said Isabelle. "Good morning, Eric. It is very good to see you. We've met before of course but it has been a while," she said. "Yes," he said, "it has been a long time. Christmas three years ago as I recall." "Yes, I believe that that is so. "Is everything all right? I mean on the job, Eric," she said. "Yeah, I guess so," he said. "Been kinda spinnin' our wheels waiting' for directions. I mean since the boss—" "Yes, well that's just it, Eric, I'm the boss now. My husband and I—well—we broke up. But, life goes on; business continues. What I mean, Eric, is that I need a good man to run the day to day operations. I'd like to offer that responsibility to you—with a commensurate increase in pay of course," said Isabelle. She saw him ease back in his seat. He nodded. "Gonna be strange not having Vic to make the decisions, but I guess, I can do it," he said. ****** "So Eric was able to get the orders shipped all right?" said Roger. "Yes, but he asked me about next week," Izzie. "And that would be about what?" said Roger. "He told me that the trucks have no place to go after Tuesday next; that is apart from some small stuff in town. There's nothing to be shipped during the next while since most of the contracts, at least the large ones from the big companies are up for renewal and except for Horowitz none of them have. Reupped that is. He only did it because of his friendship with Eric. Seems like the three of them: Horowitz, Eric, and Victor used to be tight; I mean when they were all driving," said Isabelle. "Jesus," said Roger. "We gotta get some of those contracts renewed or else get some new business to take their place. We need a salesman." "What's wrong with you doing something to help out here? It was your idea to screw the man over, after all, and that as well as my quitting the firm to run this place," said Izzie. "I can't be in two places at once." She looked frustrated. "Yeah, yeah, I know," said Roger. "Victor used to be able to do both, but I ain't him," said Izzie. "I just can't do thirteen and fourteen hours a day!" "I'll think of something. I'll think of something," said Roger. "Yeah, well in the meantime, big guy. Yo have some other business to take care of," she said. "Here?" I mean here? In the office?" ****** She came to him and they melded to each other obscenely rubbing their pubes together like two sex starved teenagers. She pushed him back and walked over to her desk. She hiked up her skirt and bent herself over it. No words were spoken. He turned and went to the door and locked it, throwing the dead bolt. Coming back to her, he knelt behind her and began kissing her still panty clad buttocks and pressing his nose into her crack. "You smell wonderful," he said. "Of course," she giggled. He slid her panties down and pulled them off her feet. She spread legs a little wider for him. He continued his kissing, and now licking her crack and anus. She sighed as he worshipped her. She felt him stop and pull back from her. She heard his zipper being pulled down and the soft sounds his clothes made as he tossed them on the floor. She felt him move behind her. She didn't notice him spit on his hands and lather his cock. His hands separated the twin globes of her now slickened butt crack. He pressed himself against her anal entrance and pushed, not too hard. He waited, pushed a little more. She grunted. He was inside of her. He began screwing her. She made little squeaky noises that indicated a mixture of small pain and big pleasure. "Oh my yes, Roger, fuck me. Do me really good," she said. He responded by increasing the tempo of her screwing. She pushed back at him. Moments later she began jerking spasmodically as she came and continued to cum. He stiffened and painted her bowels white with his semen. He leaned forward and lay across her still bent over form. For her part, she lay still, her senses still alive from her fucking. She loved being butt fucked. It was the one thing that her Victor had always been halfway good at. She thought about that now even with her lover's cock was still buried inside of her. She felt him pull out. She pushed herself back up, turned and watched him as he retrieved his clothing and began to don them. "That'll have to be enough for the moment," she said. "Thank you. You did well." she giggled. Finished dressing, he smiled back at her, turned, and went out. ****** I settled into my new digs and part time job—that turned out to be almost full time for but little more pay than the original plan called for—and tried to get on with my life. Get on with my life, but thoughts of my ex and her lover were never far from my mind. I saw her, Isabelle, again but once over the next two years. That once had been the day of the final decree of the divorce. I'd attended, though my lawyer had said I didn't need to, mainly to get a look at my replacement whom I had never yet laid eyes on. I was not disappointed. He was there, looking arrogant. I saw him mouth some words at me, "I've got her now, wimpy, deal with it." I could feel my face darken. I had every intention of dealing with it. Sooner or later the fucking chickens were going to be coming home to roost. For her part Isabelle only looked over in my direction once. Her wrinkled brow told me she regretted screwing me over, but felt she'd had no choice; yes, I saw all of that in her look. I just shook my head slowly indicating that there would be no forgiveness for the treacherous way she'd done me. At the end of the proceedings I was single and still all but broke and still bitter and still lonely. It was no surprise to me, but the two conspirators tied the knot a few weeks after the final judgment was in the books. ****** "Mac's gone for the day, Victor? "Say, could you do me a favor and give me a lift home," said Jennifer. "Mine is into the dealership for its free servicing—it's still pretty new." Jennifer Curtis had been with Mac, as his secretary and all around trouble shooter for some seven years as he'd said. "Sure bet," I said. "Five o'clock, right?" "Yes. That would be great, Victor, really," she said. The ride to Jennifer's house was noisy. It seemed she liked loud country music. We were both rockin' the car as we motored down the street toward her place. Pulling into her carport, we were laughing our heads off. Both of us were doing our level best to ruin Melissa Lambert's "Famous in a Small Town." Victor and Isabelle "Jennifer, that's the best I've felt in weeks," I said. She giggled. "I'm glad, Victor. You should ask me out sometime. I mean if you know the Texas Two Step," she said, as she exited the car. I sat there in a semi-coma before waking to what she'd said. I pushed my door open, stood, and called after her. "Jennifer?" "Yes?" she said, turning toward me. "Saturday night? Sevenish?" I said. She nodded coquettishly. I smiled as I made my way back to the garage. It'd been some two months since the final decree. I was still in a blue funk. Still trying to figure a way to get my company back or at least away from the dirty duo. Yeah, yeah I was still really really bitter. But, for the moment the good news was that I loved to dance and a woman of rather better than average good looks was interested in dancing with me. Things were looking up, and I counted that as more than an improvement in my current mental state. Now, all I needed to make my situation mellow was to see my ex slip on a banana peel and bruise her pert little pink butt. I laughed out loud at the image such a thought brought to mind. The Wild Horse Inn and Dancehall was loud and crowded and our kind of place. Jennifer kinda led me to a table against the wall and to the right of the bandstand. "Been here before; the music is gonna be loud and this is the best spot to sit if we wanna be able to hear each other between dances," she said. I nodded and smiled. Too many dance halls played the music so loud communication could only realistically be carried on by semaphore. "Experience is a wonderful thing," I said. "Yeah, it is," she said. The first tunes were medium fast, those were followed by a tandem of slow songs. We danced them all. At the end of the second slow one, we reclaimed our seats at the table and said our whews! "That Was fun," I said, meaning it. "For sure," said Jennifer. "You've done some dancing in your time, haven't you?" "Yeah, in the old days I was something of a serious hoofer. Hadn't had much of a chance since then though. Just too busy," I said. "So your ex shit on yuh?" she said. "Yeah, yeah. Not like I shouldn't have seen it coming, but I didn't. Now, I'm screwed. I keep telling myself that what goes around comes around. But, if it's comin' around it must be by broken legged Clydesdale. Anyway, I'm not through yet. For now, it's the kids I'm concerned about. I mean they're almost old enough to choose their stay-at place, 16 and just barely 18, but the older one doesn't want to abandon his sister. So, I'm going slow at this point," I said. She nodded. "You spoken to your ex at all lately?" she said. "No, don't have a hankerin' to either," I said. "Why? Do you think I should?" She stirred the drink in front of her, watching it swirl in the stem glass martinis come in. She shrugged. "Not my business, but I'm bettin' she thinks of you from time to time—maybe a lot. I can tell you from personal experience that the grass is almost never greener," she said. "There'll be a time when she wants to talk to you even if you're not so inclined." I nodded. "Maybe. I sure would like to know why she did what she did, thought what she thought, and chose, what in my opinion, is a complete loser over me. Oh yeah, I guess I really would like to have a serious sit down with that woman," I said. ****** I may have wanted to have a sit down with good 'ole Izzie, but it would be yet two more years before I would even see my ex or her lover. And, when I did, the surprise that she would be layin' upon me would be about the biggest that I had ever had so laid upon me. ****** I gotten a place, not a fancy one, but a regular place soon after I started dating Jennifer. I counted it necessary to not having to try and get ready for my dates in what amounted to a store room. I was sittin' out on my veranda—well—I was sittin' out on what passed for a marginal excuse of an inadequate veranda. I was watching the sunset. My thoughts turned to the catastrophe that my life had become. Still, with my drink in my hand; it was mellow time. It was, at any rate, until I heard someone behind me clear her throat. "Victor?" "Isabelle! Wha—what are you doing here!" I didn't fall out of my chair, but it was a close thing. She smiled, it was a weak smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Hello, Victor. Sorry if I startled you—really," she said. I nodded. "Uh—again, what are you doing here, Isabelle," I said. "May I sit, Victor?" she said. I hesitated, but then I stretched out my hand indicating that she could. "Thank you." I'd already asked her twice why she had so honored me with her presence, so I shut up. "How have you been?" she said. I smirked. The question had to be the first lines in a comedy routine. "You know how I've been. I've been screwed, Isabelle. Oh yes, by you; you and that asshole lover of yours," I said. She looked down. "I deserved that. Victor, I—I—I was defending myself against what I thought you might do to me when you found out I had a lover, Victor. "I didn't want to do you harm then, Victor, and not now either. Things just kinda got away from me. I mean with the lawyers, well, everything," she said. I was beginning to be suspicious. Something was going on here that was gonna be bad for me, I just knew it. "And?" I said. She fidgeted. "You got any influence with the bartender here?" she said. "You want a drink, Izzie? Whatever it is that you want must be bad if you need a drink. Bad for somebody. Why do I fear that that somebody is me?" I said. "I deserved that too, Victor. But, no, this evening it's me that's between a rock and a hard place," she said. "My sympathies," I said. "The drink?" she said. "Yeah, yeah, okay." I had a shaker full of martinis; I rose and went and poured her one. Returning, I handed her the drink. I studied her. I saw distress, hope, and a—certain sadness. We each sipped our cocktails without a word passing between us for some minutes. Finally, she set her drink down on the tiny table between us. "Victor, we need you," she said. I know my eyes had to have given away my surprise. "The business," I said. She nodded. Okay, now I had a point of reference. Something was wrong at the company; the one that the two of them had stolen from me. "The company?" I said, repeating myself; I wanted to hear her say it. "Yes." "You mean the one you cheated me out of." It was not a question. She looked uncomfortable but ignored my dig. "Victor, I'm sorry. But, yes, the company. It's in trouble. Roger and I—well—we didn't—aren't doing as well as you used to. We need, well, we need you. We want you to come back, run things. "Victor, we will make it worth your while," she said. I sat there dumbfounded. All of a sudden I was in the driver's seat. All of a sudden I was in a position to lay on some hurt; some of the same as was laid on me. I was loving it, but then something else came to me. It had lain dormant in me until that moment. From the time I was turned away at my own shop until this minute it had lain dormant and lost, but not anymore. It was lust! Lust for the woman who had done me in. I felt like John Dillinger surviving the treachery of the woman in red and wanting to ask her out on a date. Sense? Not even a smidgen, but real nonetheless. "Tell me, Izzie, why now? Is this a recent problem or is it something that has been festering for a while?" I said. "We've had problems almost from the beginning. Neither—well, I, didn't realize what was happening. Late deliveries, messed up contracts. Hell, I'm a paralegal for godssakes. I work with some of the best lawyers around; but these contracts with all of those companies you were doing business with—I just don't know," she cried. "Helluva lot different dealing with the good 'ole boys than messin' with the two martini lunch crowd ain't it, Izzie," I said. "I'm broke, Victor. In debt actually. Roger too. We fucked up. We—we need you. I need you," she said. "Whaddya mean need me?" I said. My meaning, the innuendo, was clear. She looked at me sidelong. "Huh?" she said. "I said, whaddya mean when you say you need me?" "Victor, are you saying—asking—what I think you're asking?" she said. She actually looked stunned. I smiled. "We used to be married, Izzie. Was I so disgusting? Was I such an inadequate lover that I deserved to be destroyed by you and that so called hot shot lawyer—oh, excuse me I mean lover—of yours? Am I so unworthy of you now? Tell me, please." I watched as she broke down. "That's what I thought," I said. "I'm not worth fucking, just worth bailing your ass out. Oh, but that's right, you're gonna make it worth my while—I forgot. Well, fuck you, Izzie and the goddamn broken down nag you road in on!" My anger had boiled over. My woman in red all of a sudden had really nasty looking warts. She leapt from her chair and stormed out. I figured that I'd seen the last of her. I figured wrong. She was about to roll out her big guns: weapons the potency of which even I could not ignore. It was two days later. ****** "Daddy? Can I talk to you?" said Lisa. My head whipped around and I saw my baby standing there. She was alone. I got down from the truck that I was working on and came to her. I looked around her and behind myself. Nothing! "Lisa, how did you get here? Where's your brother!" I said. "Mom brought me down from college, dad. She asked me to talk to you. Dad, mom is hurting real bad," said Lisa. My dirty doublecrossing ex had actually stooped so low as to use the babies to try and get what she wanted. I'd been seeing the kids off and on since our breakup; and now, since they'd entered junior college it was a bit less often. Time stands still for nobody, as I now well knew. The kids were growing up. Lisa was just starting in the nursing program and Landry, a year ahead of her, was into the techno thing: computers and what all. Their mother and I stayed out of each other's way when visiting; that at least had been something. From the gitgo, I had advised my babies never to mention their mother to me or speak to her about me; they had honored my wishes. "How's that, baby?" I said. I knew of course, but I really wanted to know just how low my ex had stooped. "She says, well, she's says she and our step dad are going to lose the business if you don't come back. She says she asked you, but you turned her down—kicked her out. Is that true dad?" said Lisa. "Baby, I turned her down, but I did not kick her out. She did run out, angry I guess, because I wouldn't help her run the business, her and her lover, husband," I said. Lisa nodded. "She says Landry and I will have to drop out of college if she can't keep the business running, dad. But, it's okay. College is a good thing, but it's not the only way. You sure didn't need to go, huh, dad." "How are you supposed to get back to the dorms, baby. I mean now, today?" I said. "Mom's gonna drive us. She's parked down the block," said Lisa. "Go get her. Tell her to come here. Come here now if she wants me back in the business," I said. "Dad, Landry and I really don't care about going to college. We can do it some other way, I mean make a living. But mom—well—she's still our mom. She did bad, daddy, but she is still our mom." I nodded. "Go get her, Lisa. I want you here when I talk to her. Okay?" I said. "Okay, daddy." It may have been my imagination, but I was sure I saw the glint of pride in my daughter's eyes, as she hurried off down the block. The two year old Caddy pulled into the yard and a very beautiful Izzie got out and came to me. I was a mess, grimy, smelly, dressed in near rags, with work shoes that actually had the soles taped on; we were a helluva contrast the two of us, and the one in the fancy duds was begging the one in the rags for help; yuh had to love it. I'd been meaning to get new soon as soon as I had the chance. "Hello, Victor, thank you for seeing me—us," she said. I glared at her. Grabbing a rag I wiped the worst of the muck off of my hands and signaled that she should come inside. "You too, baby," I said, addressing Lisa. "I'm doing this for you and Landry, and maybe a little bit for me. Okay?" I said. "Victor, I don't think..." started Izzie. "Your ability to think is not in question here, though truthfully it is in serious doubt. What is in question is whether or not I am going to bail you and your lover out. Got it?" I said. I wasn't being nice. I knew exactly what I was going to do; I'd had enough time to figure it out. I also knew that they, the two conspirators, were not going to give me my business back, not outright at any rate; they didn't dare. But, I was going to make me a deal that got me a whole lot of satisfaction to say the fucking least. Oh yeah. "I seated them around the table the employees sometimes used for lunch and breaks. It wasn't too grimy, though Izzie looked tentative as she sat down. I leaned back against the wall; I didn't want to sit. "Okay, you want me. I have to ask, why isn't asshole here?" I said, not caring an iota that my daughter heard me. "Victor, please. I beg of you, can we just get on with this," said my ex. "This is the deal, Izzie. You and your lover want me back. You want me back bad enough to use my baby to influence me. Okay, you've got me, but on the following conditions, and no negotiation. It's my way or no way. Agreed?" she nodded. One: my lawyer will draw up a new contract favorable to me. You two will just sign it, like I did—period. Two: I get half of everything, again no negotiation. I should get it all; count yourself lucky—period. Three: and lastly, you will work for me, not in those law offices anymore if you still are. I have my reasons. Any problem with that?" I said. She looked askance at me. I was pretty sure she was getting my message. That particular ditty, I would make clearer to her the first day we worked together. "No, no problem, Victor. And, I haven't worked for the firm since—well—since we broke up. We, Roger and I, really are in trouble financially, and we really have no choice," she said. "No, no you don't," I said. "You may leave now. My lawyer will be in touch on Monday." She rose, turned to go, turned back, and looked me straight in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Victor, truly. And thank you. I know we will be okay, now. Thank you again." "Thank Lisa, I'm doing it mostly for her, a little for me, but mostly for her, for her and Landry," I said. My ex nodded. I had one last shot to unload on her. "Oh, and have a nice evening, Isabelle Christiansen," I said. I got a look from my daughter, and from my ex, for that one. I felt good. ****** My first day back was busier than I could have imagined it would be. Eric had the yards squared away, but the office stuff was a disaster. I immediately called everybody together in the warehouse, including Izzie. Roger was nowhere to be seen, better that way, I thought. The two of them had signed the contract: one that nullified the old one; the one they screwed me with. The new one would do, for the moment. Margie took notes. "Margie," I said, addressing her, "You have no other job but the records for the next two weeks. Izzie will be your assistant, gofer, typist, whatever you need. If mister Christiansen comes around send him in, but don't call him. It's up to him if he wants to be a part of the activity here; I don't give a damn one way or the other." Margie smiled the smile of the recently rescued. Izzie was stony-faced. I took Eric aside and told him what I wanted him to do. He jumped to it with a broad smile on his face. The whole place was humming with activity before one could say Jack Robinson. Then, it was my turn. For two days I did little more than make phone calls. Then, it was the field for me. My first month back we charted as much business as the two baddies had during the previous thirteen months. I was feeling good. Even Izzie had a smile on her face at the beginning of each day; the pressure, the financial pressure, was off. Mister Christiansen did show up, finally. He wanted to know if he could do anything to help out. Since he was still employed during the week at the law offices; he could only be of use on the weekends. Eric was appointed to keep an eye in him; he loved it, Eric did, the overtime was useful to him since his wife was expecting. One interesting factoid was that the two cheaters and I had had as yet no sit down to talk it out—their cheating ways and what they had done to me. I had not pushed it because I wanted to get the company back on its feet first, no mean feat. For the next few months things went along swimmingly. Then it was tax time, and Margie called a meeting with me. She had cleaned up and diagnosed everything in the records from the period that I had been gone to the present. It was an eye opener. "This straight?" I said, looking up from the papers she'd handed me. "Yes, sir, and, it's the first I've seen of it, well, was sure of it. It took a ton of digging to find the money. He's good. I mean good at hiding things." I fidgeted. "Was her signatures on any of this stuff?" I said. Margie looked down. "I'm sorry, Mr. Shelby. It's on almost everything," she said. I nodded. "Okay, Margie. You can go. Just keep doing the good job you are doing. Oh, and you're back in the regular office, regular duty as of now," I said. I think she sighed; she hadn't exactly liked doing all of the digging, but it had paid off. Now, I had to make a decision. The tax dodging, the skimming of company funds, the shorting of employees' paychecks on marginally valid pretexts was all documented. Indirectly documented in most cases, but documented. A top gun auditor would decipher it and nail the both of them hardcore: prison time without a doubt. So, question, did I want to see my ex-wife behind bars? Did I want to risk alienating my children by so doing? As for Christiansen, I had no problem seeing him dragged off in chains. But my woman, my ex-woman? I wasn't sure. It was time for the sit down. The tone of that meeting figured to decide me. And there was one more thing I had to decide even before the meeting with Isabelle and good 'ole Roger. ****** I was seated at a table near the front when she walked it. The place, the Highlander Grill, was fairly full. "Hi, what's happening? You sounded kinda—I don't know—urgent, I guess," said Jennifer. "Hi back atcha, Jen." I leaned back in my seat, then forward, my elbows on the table, my fingers interlaced. "Jen, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, but the time never seemed right. Or, okay, maybe I was chicken," I said. "Huh? What are you talking about?" said Jen. "Jen we've been friends for a long time. We've had an employer-employee relationship even longer. Right?" I said. "Well, yes of course. We are friends. But, what—what—I mean what are you getting at, Victor. Have I done something wrong?" she said. "Wrong? Huh? Heavens no!" I said. "Quite to the contrary. Jennifer Curtis, I guess I have to get to the heart of the matter. But—no matter what, I do not want what I am about to say to ruin our relationship. Okay?" She looked at me like I was from outer space. "Okay," she said. I was having a helluva time getting said what needed to be said. Finally I blurted it out. "Jennifer Curtis, I want to marry you." "Huh? Marry? Me? You want to marry me?" she said. She did not look happy. "Uh—Jen, it's okay. I just well I..." "Yes," she said finally, and all too quietly for my taste. She moved closer to me, put her arms around me, and kissed me. "Yes, mister Shelby, that would be fine with me." Suddenly her smile was grand-canyon size. For the next hour plus our faces were never more than a few inches apart. We talked about everything and nothing, and it didn't matter; neither of us were going to remember a bit of it afterwards; or, maybe we'd remember every word of it. The only thing that mattered was the truth that we would always be together; I knew it, and she knew it. Victor and Isabelle We left together and she took me to her house; I had never been there. Three hours later the front room couch had endured a serious beating, the master bedroom looked as if Hitler's panzers had assaulted it. And the two comatose bodies stretched out on the bed of that master bedroom were near physical ruins. ****** Two days after my meeting with Jennifer, I asked my ex and her partner in crime to a meeting in my office. I was leafing through the data that Margie had gathered at my direction. I was not feeling especially good, and I wasn't sure why. The knock on the door broke into my musings. I sighed and got up to answer it. "Hi, Victor," said Izzie. I nodded. Roger followed her in and offered me his hand; I ignored it; he looked askance at me. This was not going to be a very nice meeting for them. Not very nice at all, and, the video recorder would be getting it all. "Have a seat," I said. "We have some things to go over." They seated themselves in front of my desk. I was silent for a long moment. "Go over? Go over what?" said Roger, finally losing patience with my silence. "Well, since you ask, I've been going over some of these papers. It seems Roger that you have been—shall we say—more than a little creative with your bookkeeping," I said. "What? What are you getting at?" said Roger. "Victor, we brought you back to help with that very kind of thing; we—well we—just aren't very good at business," said Izzie, butting in. "To say the fucking least," I said. "The two of you have been doctoring the books and that in technicolor. If the IRS gets hold of what I've got copies of in front of me, they will squeeze you, the two of you, till the pimples on your asses pop." Izzie's eyes suddenly got big. "Victor—surely—surely—I mean you're not thinking of..." she started. "Turning you in? Thinking about turning you in, the two of you, Izzie? Frankly, yes it has crossed my mind. You know a little revenge for what you did to me. All I have to do is click send here on this laptop and it all goes to the IRS and the FBI," I said. I glanced at the VIAO on the desk. Roger had been speechless for a brief moment. Now he regained his voice. "Please, Victor, like Izzie said, we don't know much about running a business. If we screwed up, we will make it up. Somehow we will make it up. Just don't do anything rash. Please don't send that stuff—whatever it is," he said. "You're telling me, that you didn't know, that not reporting half of this firms receipts was illegal?" I said. "Victor, we lost money!" said Izzie. "That would no doubt be taken into consideration at your sentencing," I said. It was clear to me that Izzie was about to fall apart. What Roger did next saved him. "Victor, it was all me. Izzie had nothing to do with it. Let her go. I will explain it all to you if you will allow," he said. Well, he'd thrown himself under the bus for his love; that got him some credit from me. "Okay. Sure, she'd off the legal hook," I said. "Izzie, strip," I said. "Huh? ..." she started. "Get naked. I'm going to fuck you in front of your husband," I said. She paled, but she started to disrobe. "Okay, stop. I just wanted good 'ole lover boy here to feel a little bit of what I felt. Got it, Roger baby." He nodded. "Victor, I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry!" he said. I didn't answer him directly. "Izzie, get out of here!" said Roger. She started at his tone. But, she rose and left—slowly—but she left. I turned to the man who had made me his cuckold and robbed me of everything I'd held dear. I spread my hands in a get on with it gesture. Over the next while, I got the whole story; and yes, I got it all on video and audio. It seems my erstwhile wife and her lover had acquired tastes that were a tad above their economic possibilities. They had, or rather as Roger said, he had, figured out how to have his cake and eat it too. The plan was rather complex actually; I had to admire his, or their, ingenuity; which of course put the lie to the notion that he or they didn't know exactly what they were doing. They did; they just weren't worth a damn at sales and customer relations. I had to smile at that as he finished his spiel. I looked at the man and considered my next words carefully. "Roger, you are a complete asshole. You robbed me of my wife and my business, essentially my life. That I was able to recover some measure of my own back was more a matter of luck and a certain woman I met than anything else. I should sink your ship and let you rot in prison. That said... "You are going to repay every dime you took; you and your wife that is. She is clearly as guilty as you. "I have already made preliminary arrangements to get it done. The money will come from your personal wages and hers. And, I mean your personal wages from the law firm you work for. Since she works here, I will see her share comes from her checks. You will be allowed enough to get by on, but not a cent more. Don't be figurin' on buying any cars or taking any vacations until you've cleaned up the mess you made. Am I clear?" I said. He nodded, "Yes, very clear. I guess I should thank you for not turning us in. But, Victor, I know something about the law. How are you going to keep them from going after me, or Izzie, anyway," he said. "I have friends, Roger. And, they have friends. You're getting one chance. Mess it up and your ass is grass. Got it?" I said. "Okay," he said. "Now, for the biggee. You and your wife will sign over complete ownership of this business to me. I mean one hundred percent. She becomes my employee, as I indicated before, at least until you've paid back the near quarter million in IRS dues and penalties that you owe." He had no choice and he knew it. He nodded his acceptance of my terms. He got up to go, I thought a little unsteadily. I watched him walk slowly to the door. Okay, I had to know. "Roger?" I said, to his retreating back. He turned to see what else I wanted. "Why? I mean why the bad mouthing me when you two were doing the dirty. And, yes, I know about it." He had the look of the hopeless on his countenance. "Truth?" "Yes, and nothing but," I said. "It was a combination of things. All of it was. The sex with her. Pride—my ego. Quite frankly, Victor, as good as you are at business you're less than useless as a lover. You could say that I am your diametrical opposite both in business and in bed. I loved doing her, and when we got going it was easy to call you names. Mostly to make us, or at least me, feel bigger than we—I—really was. "You were always the better man in most ways, Victor, just not worth a damn in bed. And a woman needs a man who can do her and make her cry out for more. It's the one thing I can do better than most. Izzie never had a chance; I knew I had her once I'd socked it to her that first time," he said. I knew he was right. I had about as much imagination as a rock when it came to pleasing a woman. I made a note to change that little ditty. I was not going to lose Jennifer to some other big dicked asshole no matter what. ****** Epilog: Jennifer and I married six months later. We settled into her house. One that now has a nice deck patio that I built myself. We're planning on a pool, but not until we can afford to pay cash. No debts for us: we are totally on the same page in that sense. Roger and Izzie are still together. I figure at the rate of the payback to the IRS they're looking at about five more years of barely getting by, but it beats the hell outta several years in the slam. Jennifer and I do not socialize with the duo, but at work Izzie and I get along—barely. After what she did to me forgiveness would be coming slow if ever. She knew it. I think I see her looking at me as a lost opportunity from time to time. The feeling I get as a result is real nice. Oh yeah, and Jennifer and I are expecting in a few of months. THE END