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What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 01

By: Pultoy



Chapter 01

Cheating

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Curiousss has graciously agreed to edit my works. I find him to be a superior wordsmith and am proud to have him associated with my stories. After he edits me, I still tinker with it some, so if you find anomalies, please remember, it was me. Thanks to Curiousss.

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We are the Wilson family. My wife, Melody, is thirty-one, tall and willowy, sensuous, with an easy smile and very self-confident. I am Bill, thirty-five, six feet tall, a little overweight and diabetic but, even at two hundred ten, still attractive to women. Despite that I am loyal and faithful to my wife. Our son, Bradley, is nine. We've been married almost ten years.

My best friend and his family, Pete and Marsha Stone are both thirty-five and their daughter, Mellissa, is also 9. Mellissa is a type 1 diabetic, whose health is kept under control with blood glucose monitoring and regular insulin injections. Pete is a big guy, six feet three inches and about two hundred thirty pounds.

Pete and I had been friends since third grade. We were next door neighbors. When my folks and I moved into his neighborhood in my third grade year, he and I hit it off and became fast friends, BFF, I think it's called.

We were in trouble together after we got our driver's licenses, we'd been caught drag racing our two cars against one another. Officer Fife didn't much appreciate our squealing tires, racing engines and high speeds on 'his' pavement, in 'his' town. We were Best Men at each other's weddings. We'd been thick throughout most of our lives, eating at one another's homes, overnights when we were kids, barbecues, etc. Our wives were best friends too.

Our tenth Wedding Anniversary was coming up and we wanted to do something really special. Melody and I had been talking for years about taking "The Great Canadian Train Ride" across Canada, from Toronto to Vancouver. It is a thirteen day, twelve night trip in dome cars, also with sleepers so we could take advantage of a beautiful scenic trip, and do something really different. It takes in the scenic Jasper, Lake Louise, Banff, and the Northern Rocky Mountains like no other trip. I'd actually wanted to take this trip since my college days.

Pete and I are both dentists and have thriving practices. We bought a building in Denver that suited us and went into partnership, remodeling it so we both shared a receptionist, waiting area, billing clerk, laboratory, rest rooms, that sort of thing, but had our own dedicated exam and work rooms as well as private offices.

We close our practices down each year for the month of July, taking the whole month off for some really worthwhile vacation time. Then, the rest of the year we don't take any time off, except for weekends and holidays, and we rotate on-call for emergencies on those, so we are pretty well tied to one another.

Pete's wife Marsha is a five feet four inch trim and sassy redhead. She has a bright, wonderful personality and works for one of the Urologists we know from Northglenn, a northern suburb of Denver. She's thin, petite but full of vigor and fun. She's great looking and, so far as I know, totally faithful to Pete.

Melody, my wife, is tall and sensuous, willowy, with luscious full lips, puffy breasts, lithe body, perfect hips and long legs with dainty feet. Wherever we go, men look at her. She turns the heads of high school kids and old men alike, to say nothing of those in our own age group. She's just one of those women who are blessed with superior looks. Personality wise, most never know her, because they can never get beyond looking at those delicious lips or hips. She doesn't work outside our home, though she could if she wanted.

Melody and I met in her freshman year of college. She was training to be a dental hygienist and I was becoming a dentist. We had some classes together as I was a graduate teaching assistant. I asked her out and we dated off and on for nearly three years. We got married in her junior year. We had Brad in her senior year. Melody did finish, getting her four year degree, but it took an extra year for her to do it.

I am four years older than her, but I had extra years of schooling, plus 2 years of internship, so I got my DDS before she got her four year degree.

Melody was wild in high school and even during college. While we were dating she admitted to having experienced other guys before we became serious and engaged. We dated off and on before we decided to get married. She knew Pete long before we got married, because Pete and I were together all the time, so they went back almost as far as she and I did, though I'd met her first, but introduced them on our second or third date.

I never knew for sure if they'd been intimate. Sometimes I kind of suspected that they had been during one of our breakups. Despite the possibility, they remained loyal to me, never changing how they acted toward me and I really had nothing for proof, other than an occasional uneasiness. There was never any hard evidence or real indication, or at least none that I recognized.

When Pete met Marsha and fell in love, it seemed there were no more 'sneaking suspicions' so I never pushed it. We were a foursome and partied hardy together lots of times. We all went a long way back, together.

Melody is a strange one in bed. When she is menstruating, she becomes sexually ravenous, almost 'rabid'. During a four or five day part of her cycle, I think she could have sex continually, 24/7 in her quest to scratch that itch. During that time of her month, we have almost nonstop sex, when I am home. Plain vanilla sex nowhere near meets her needs and desire for sexual fulfillment. She wants it rough and hard, lots of it. Many nights during our ten year marriage and three year courtship I'd have to get up and shower her menses off me before going to bed.

However, during the rest of the month, she is bland, sexually. She isn't demanding, and almost never initiates sex. Also, when I am done, she is done. She really doesn't seem to care one way or another. There doesn't seem to be any way to excite her, try as I might.

I asked a gynecologist friend about it once and he just shrugged and said, "Different women are different. I wouldn't worry about it if everything else is normal. If there's no excessive cramping, bleeding or other abnormality, let it run its course."

So, I learned to live with it. I know that once a month I'll get my socks screwed off for a few days - the rest of the time, I get by with whatever I just have to have, and no more.

In March, Melody and I decided to take Bradley on the Great Canadian Train Ride that summer. It would be the best family vacation we had ever had, and we couldn't wait for July so we could leave.

I mentioned to Pete what we had decided and he showed a great interest in the trip. He asked if I'd mind if he asked Marsha and maybe plan the trip so we could all go together. 

It was great with me and I said, "We'd love it. Ask her and we'll get you the information so you can book it. You need to book right away though, so don't wait."

I told Melody about my conversation with Pete earlier that day. The strangest look swept across her face - it almost looked like arousal to me.

Marsha called that night and got the booking information from Melody - they had decided to go with us.

In June, before our trip, I was scheduled to be off on a Wednesday afternoon, which is common. Pete was just scheduling lightly and said he wanted to get out of the office early too. I didn't go golfing, like I usually would do, deciding instead to get caught up on some insurance paperwork, sign patient notes and the like. I stayed in my office, with the door closed so I wouldn't be interrupted.

About 4:45 pm, I hit a bump in my hitherto smooth-sailing paperwork, and needed to see Pete about a regulation we were supposed to be following. I pushed the intercom to his office and said, "Pete, you still here?"

A long silence followed, "Uh, yeah, whatcha need Bill?"

"Good, I'll just come over to your office; I need to ask you about this Medicare regulation." I switched off the intercom, stepped out of my office and walked the twenty-five feet to his office. I just opened his door and went in. 

Melody was in there and they were breathing kind of hard. They were a little disheveled. Her hair was messy, their clothes rumpled. They acted like they'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing.

"Melody, what are you doing here?" I asked, looking at Pete then at her.

"Oh Bill, I thought you were golfing. I was just telling Peter about our trip, what we are expecting, that we're so excited. I was just saying that we'd been planning this for years and how you'd wanted to do this since college," she blanched

"Yeah?" I snorted, "What's up here guys? My wife and my partner bumping their uglies?" I queried, rage building in me.

"Bill, knock it off," Pete said, "We thought you were golfing and we were talking about the trip. Your birthday comes in July, while we'll be on the train, and we were talking about that, if you need to know the truth." He appeared relieved at his quickly thought-out excuse, but it was still an excuse!

I left the room without saying a word, walking out to where my car was parked in the shade. No wonder she hadn't seen it, I hadn't used my regular parking spot because it was so hot that day.

I got in and drove off. My cell rang repeatedly; Pete's office number, Melody's cell and finally Pete's cell. There were probably thirty calls in that first two hours. I beat her home, loaded a suitcase, hotfooted it out and got a room at the local LaQuinta Inn.

My cell phone rang at intervals all evening, up until about midnight. I had it on silent, so I'd see the light come on, but I did not answer it.

The next morning I was at the office at eight. I had a heavy patient load, with appointments stacked one after another. I had been trying to get everyone seen, who needed to be seen, before being off for a month. Pete had a heavy load that day too, for the same reason; I'd checked his appointment book.

During the day, several messages came in to reception from Melody for me. I told the receptionist I was, "too busy to take any calls today, so to tell Melody not to call because I am snowed under." 

She still persisted, but so did I. The poor receptionist knew the Wilsons were feuding, but she didn't know how seriously. I hated my staff to be in the middle of this, but I couldn't do anything about it except talk to Melody, and I was not going to do that right now.

I slipped out of the office Thursday night before anyone could catch me and went to my LaQuinta room. Friday morning I was back at work, still fully loaded with work, patients one after another, and there was no letup. 

Right around twelve-noon, Melody walked into the office, thinking I might have a lull for fifteen minutes while I scarfed down a sandwich. There were patients in each of my three exam rooms, employees everywhere plus Pete's contingent of staff and patients. There was no privacy, and a shouting match was out of the question, though I considered that choking her to death would be quiet, and I could do it in my office where I could remove her body hours later after everyone had left!

I couldn't do that but I could dream it. I think the patient sitting in the chair at that moment probably got a little too much Novocain, but she didn't have any pain during her procedure. My reputation for 'painless dentistry' would be intact!

Melody stood in the doorway of the exam room as I was working, bent over my patient, concentrating on my work. She stood there, staring at me. 

My assistant said, "Dr. Wilson, uh, Mrs. Wilson is here."

"Oh, hello, dear, I'm snowed under right now, as you can see - can it wait?" I forced a cheery answer.

"Ok, uh, yes. What time will you be home honey?" she asked, just as forced, just as cheerily.

"It's the weekend tonight; I have patients until late and then some catching up to do on paperwork. It'll be really late, I'm afraid." I intoned, "Don't hold supper."

She just said, "Ok, see you later tonight then," turned around and walked out. She knew that I was steamed from my forced tone and words. Knowing me for a dozen years, she knew I'd address her when I was ready and not before.

I left a note on Pete's desk before I left the office. "9pm tonight here -- Bill."

When I walked back into the office at 9:10 pm, I found an agitated but contrite partner/friend. 

"Dammit, Bill I spend enough time in this office, why tell me 9 pm if you weren't going to be here on time?" He started in.

"Because, you miserable sonofabitch, I'd have killed you if I'd come in here at 9pm. It took me a moment to take control of myself and calm down as I was remembering catching you two the other day. I just saved your miserable fucking life, so quit your fucking bitching."

"Jeeze, Bill, cool down. Nothing happened." He said.

"If nothing happened, it is only because I interrupted you," I seethed.

"You are out of control, Bill. If you aren't going to talk reasonably I'm leaving," he threatened.

"That's OK with me, I'm putting your ass on notice now. You lay a hand on my wife and your life will not be any fun, any more," I yelled, eyeball to eyeball with my partner.

I drove straight from the office to home. When I walked in, Melody was sitting at the table; she had been crying. 

"Bill, I'm so glad you're home. Honey, I want to talk to you, please." She begged.

"Melody, first you will listen, and then you can talk," I said, sternly.

"I know you two have your stories worked out by now. I know you too well to be fooled by your lies. So, you get to make a choice, this may be your last choice as far as this marriage goes, but you do get it." 

"Here it is: Tell me the truth, in full. If I sniff one hint of a ruse or a lie, I will move to end this marriage immediately. If you tell me the truth, no matter how damning it is to you, I will consider everything and decide when I am more in control; I'll wait until we get back from Canada," I said. "That is your choice."

"Oh, honey, I....well, OK, I love you," she began, twisting her hands, looking anxiously about her but not at me. It was a long silence as she decided what and how to tell me. 

I sat expressionless glaring right at her face while waiting for her to speak.

"Billy, you know how I get just before and during my period. This isn't news to you, I am so horny, I can't help it, something happens to me. Most of the time, I wear you out and can get by. But, there have been times through the years when you either weren't available or couldn't quite get me where I needed to be, I...sometimes...I...went to Pete." She began trembling, looking at me, unsure if she was doing the right thing in telling me the truth about her and Pete.

"He's always been your best friend, and he's always been such a gentleman to me, and so helpful and safe. When we were in college, you were taking exams, cramming all night, you had to do well or you couldn't go on, and the subjects were so tough for you, remember?" 

I sat mute, listening, not outwardly reacting. My hands were cold, my throat was dry, I wondered if I'd have a stroke, my head pounding.

"Well, I needed relief, and...Pete, well he was always around and safe. I knew I could trust him and he hadn't met Marsha yet, or if he had they weren't serious yet. He never came onto me; I just called him and asked if I could come to see him when you were in a study group one night. I went to his house, that one that he and those 4 guys rented together off campus. He was waiting for me out front when I pulled up, wondering if something was wrong. He was concerned for me," she said.

"I was so horny Bill, I couldn't help myself. I saw him and threw myself into his arms, kissing him and grabbing at his crotch and rubbing mine on his leg. I was beside myself. Pete took me upstairs and we had sex." She was crying, sobbing.

She looked at me with fearful eyes, wondering how I'd react, what I'd do. She was shaking and sobbing.

"Have you fucked him since?" I asked.

"Yes, several times through the years. Like I said, I knew he's safe and wouldn't hurt me. When you were out or unavailable; when I couldn't get enough from you, I knew I could call Pete and he could help me. His p...penis is so large; it can make me calm down sometimes. And, after he comes once, he can go a long time before he comes again, which is just what I need, you already know that," she wept.

"So, I'm not enough for you, you are out of control, need a second man to keep you serviced, can't use a dildo, is that about right?" I asked. 

"Then," I continued, not waiting for her answer, "the rest of the month, I languish while you do not require your servicing. My needs are secondary to yours and for years you've felt like it is ok to fuck my best friend, behind my back, for your needs, because he is so much bigger than I am, AND he's safe and convenient?"

"Do not tell Pete, don't tell Marsha, and don't tell ANYONE that you've told me this, Melody. I am going to think about this and I want my options open. If I find out you've betrayed me further with him, protecting him from me, I won't be happy. Understand?" I said.

"Ok, I won't. Please, Bill, don't leave me," she begged, "I love you."

This is no weak willed woman. Melody is a woman of considerable allure, and she knows it. I know that she didn't need to beg me; there'd be dozens of men that could warm the cockles of her heart if she'd wanted. That she did seem to be repentant, even trapped inside her own body during 5 days per month, wasn't necessarily her fault. I do know that her proclivity for uncontrolled sexual lust and need for satisfaction is real. The facts cannot be denied, not even by a totally distraught husband. However, there are dildos and some medical remedies, if she'd only have sought them.

However my friend, my partner, my brother in all ways except blood was a different story. That is betrayal in the highest sense of the word, to me.

"Is there anyone else?" I asked her.

"No, never; I mean, when we were dating, before we'd, you know, gotten engaged there were some, but not after we committed." She said. "Oh, I'm such a rotten person. Oh, Bill, what am I gonna do? I'm so sorry," she cried remorsefully.

"You are sleeping in the guest room for now, for starters," I said. I went upstairs to bed. When her 5 days of oestrus visited her, I was not going to be available to her, that much I knew. It would hit her a few days after we were on the train in Canada, according to my figuring. I was going to lay in wait for my partner and sink his life, like he'd sunk mine.

We each took our own cars to DIA when we left for Toronto. We had so much luggage that it wouldn't all fit in one car plus all six of us, four adults and two kids. We had to pack for three weeks, even though the train ride was thirteen days, we had to spend a night in Toronto and a night in Vancouver, plus it's always good to pack a little extra for emergencies.

We got on the train on Friday morning and off we went, heading for Vancouver via the entire Canadian part of the continent.

Melody began to show signs of her monthly cycle after two days on the train, and I ignored her, refusing her attempts to mate, pushing her, intentionally, into Pete's arms. She held out a day and a half, and finally sought him out, bedding him in our sleeper during the afternoon of our third full day. I opened the door of the sleeper, unexpectedly to them, and they were furiously fucking; both were bloody, oblivious to anything but the clack, clack, clack of the train as they went at it. "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot," as the author said (WTF?), I said.


What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 01



About the time they noticed me standing there, Marsha, white as a ghost, came running and crying down the hallway of the sleeper car, "Something's wrong with Mellissa, I can't get her to respond to me, please come help her Bill," she cried, never even noticing her husband and my wife, tangled up in the sleeper unit.

I left the door to the sleeper open, exposing them to passers by, and ran to the dome car where the kids were sitting watching the scenery roll by; Mellissa was pale, clammy and semi-conscious. 

"Has she had her insulin, Marsha?" I asked.

"Yes, just like normal." She replied holding up the vial of Novolog to me. 

"It's cloudy, Marsha," I said, "Look, It's no good." I took the vial and noticed that it was very cloudy and had sediment in the bottom, a sign that it had lost its efficacy.

"Do you have another vial of Novolog?" I asked her, "Also get her blood glucose monitor, let's check her sugars," I said.

The meter read that her sugars were over 480, she was in hyperglycemia, probably ketoacidosis too. The insulin, not being any good, had not been working, she'd been getting sicker and sicker and nobody had noticed.

Marsha brought another vial of the insulin, unopened, still in the box and handed it to me, "it's all I have with us, it should be more than enough for three weeks," she said.

I opened the box and it was no good, either. The insulin also was cloudy and must have come from the factory that way, or allowed to get too hot or too cold.

"You have no other insulin, then Marsha?" I asked. 

"I brought two vials, Bill. That's two thousand units, more than enough for three weeks under any circumstances," she said with anguish.

"I'll have to give her some of mine then. But, I don't have enough for us both for ten days to get us to Vancouver," I said, "especially since we need to give her so much to get her back to normal now. Do you think 80 units will be enough for this initial bolus?" I asked her.

"That is a big dose, I've never had to give her that much," Marsha worried.

"She's over 480 Marsha, we need to get her sugars down," I said. 

Pete and Melody rushed up about that time, looking sheepish as could be.

"Did you get all the blood cleaned up?" I spat at them.

"Pete, I am going to save your daughter's life, you cheating bastard. Not because of you, but in spite of you." I said, not waiting for their answer.

Melody, Pete and Marsha watched as I pinched Mellissa's lower belly and injected my own insulin into Mellissa. She was a sick little girl. 

"What are you talking about?" Marsha asked.

Melody and Pete were standing there in total embarrassment.

"Our spouses have been lovers for 12 years or more, Marsha. I just caught them fucking when you were running up to tell me about Mellissa. They were in our sleeper going at it," I told everyone within earshot.

Melody started crying and Pete withered at Marsha's glare. Mellissa was still comatose, unstable and there was no way of doing more for her at the moment with what I had available. 

I asked for her glucose meter again and took another reading after 15 minutes. She was slowly descending, it was 414. I took her reading again in 30 minutes it was 288 and then again 30 minutes later, it was 160. She was conscious again, but cranky and scared, weak and tired.

"I'm not sure I have enough test strips, Bill if we keep testing her every hour. I only brought about 75," Marsha worried, "We usually only test 4 times a day."

In spite of the infidelity of my best friend and my wife, Mellissa, my treacherous partner's daughter was the most important issue of the moment. The most worrisome thing was that I didn't have enough insulin for us both for 10 days. Now, the test strips also became an issue. I only had what I needed for my own use, but it was essential that we keep a close watch on and control of Mellissa's sugar levels. She was brittle at the moment and may continue to be until we could get medical help.

"Make sure and see that she drinks a lot of water, we'll have to use my test strips when you run out. Let's try to get and keep her stable and see where we're at." I instructed.

She is the most critically ill, being a type 1 diabetic. Her body produces no insulin, or cannot process what she does make, and is totally dependent on external insulin.

I am a type 2 diabetic, and while my body produces 'some' insulin it isn't enough. My weight and sedentary lifestyle were my culprits, for sure. I decided that I had to forego full doses to make sure she got enough to get her safely to the end of our trip.

I tried to calculate what she'd need. Her mom said she normally took about 50 units a day of the short acting insulin. With the 80 I already gave her she'd need almost 600 units of what I had on hand, and I only had about 900 units. I usually take around 70 units per day. I had started the trip with a full vial plus one third of another. But, I'd taken the partial vial and a little of the new one, then gave Mellissa 80 units. That's how I figured I had about 900 units left, and we needed about 1200-1300 units between us to get us to Vancouver. We were in the middle of the Canadian wilderness and had over 9 days of cross-country travel left.

I'd have to cut my doses to about half or a little less, to make sure she had extra in case she needed it. This was going to be painful. I could end up pretty sick myself here.

To make things even more tense, we had only the two sleepers between the two families and nowhere else to go, except the dining car or the dome car. It was quite the dilemma not only for me, but also for Melody and Pete.

I stopped talking to Pete and Melody. I just never said a word directly to them. I talked to the kids and I spoke some to Marsha. We went to bed that night and I could hear and feel her masturbating next to me, crying and suffering terribly, but I had no sympathy, I had been betrayed and I knew it'd been going on ever since I'd known her. She could have learned to use a dildo, or get some medical help, or, hey, how about talk to me?

Pete, my so called best friend was even worse to me, in my mind. The two of them carried on behind my back. If there was a time to seek a solution to her problem that had years to present itself, now wasn't it, and it wasn't with my best friend twelve years earlier, either. Now, in the middle of nowhere, stuck together, I was going to ride this into the ground and them with it.

If needed, I'd do my best to pound sand up Pete's ass. The trouble was, he was probably capable of beating me. I'd never be able to get the better of him with the tactic of surprise, because he'd now be on alert, I'm sure. So, the element of surprise might not be that easy to come by.

Melody was miserable. Caught in the act after having admitted to me at home and in the throes of her 'disease', if that is what it should be called, she couldn't get me to deal with her. She was afraid to see Pete alone again, Marsha was furious with her; she was adrift and alone with no obvious remedy. 

Well, Melody found a remedy, leave it to her; the conductor. He was a portly, kind, black man of sixty or so, and he had his own berth on the train. Melody found it and him in it and introduced him to a menstruating, highly aroused white woman who liked to fuck. I'm not sure the man ever was right after that encounter. 

I followed her the next night as she left our sleeper, the train lulling everyone as it trundled down the track, everyone but her...and me. When she left the car, I left the sleeper. When she walked through the next car, I went into it, from the other end, following. When I couldn't see her, I knew she was somewhere in the car I was in. I just opened each compartment until I found them. 

She was already impaled on his cock and grinding hard on the sleepy black man. She opened her eyes, looking at me and never stopped. I stood and I watched a moment, incredulous; the conductor looked up at me and actually paled, fearing for his life. I stepped into his little apartment, put my hands under Melody's armpits and yanked her off the man. Then, I dragged her back to our car, she whimpering as we went.

When that old conductor saw the blood on himself in the morning, I am sure he'd freak out. I took Melody back to our room and used my belt to tie her hand and arm to our bed. She'd not leave this bed without me, and I wasn't going to touch her. She'd have to tough this one out.

The next morning, there was some sort of mechanical malfunction with one of the diesel train locomotives. They announced that we'd make an unscheduled stop in Banff for repairs, expecting the wait would be one to two days. At least we could get the insulin crisis averted, and Mellissa to medical attention, but I also decided on something that would scorch the earth of two families.

With the four of us seated together in the dining car, Pete, Marsha, Melody and me, I laid out an ultimatum.

"One of two things is going to happen here in Banff," I said. "Either both Pete and Melody get off here and find their own way back to Denver, or I do." Their eyes widened, their mouths open, breathing shallow.

"Bill, don't be stupid. There is no need for this," Pete begged.

"Oh, honey please I'm so sorry, don't do this," came Melody's reply.

Marsha never said a word, she just looked at me with a mixture of, 'don't leave me with them' and 'I wish I could go with you.' But because of Mellissa, unsure travel arrangements might not be wise, and she needed constant monitoring. They could get the supplies they needed in Banff, go to the clinic and have a doctor treat her, but getting through the rest of the trip would be tense.

"I have a DNA sample of Bradley and I'm going to check him for paternity, whether or not I am his father. More than that, my days as part of you two's, and my unwilling, triumvirate of monthly pleasure is ended. I'm through with you both. Our partnership, both of you hear me, our partnership is cancelled from this moment forward." I was yelling as I finished, the veins in my neck sticking out, my fists clenched and white, the lips of my mouth were dry and thin, I was in fight or flee mode and do or die it would be! I had become enraged and out of control with anger, insult and the deep sense of betrayal.

Pete rose from the table and I swung at him, grazing his chin and knocking him off his feet, but not really hurting him. Melody started to stand and I cocked my fist at her, ready to smash her face if she stood all the way. She sat back down and avoided a closed fist, but I also avoided sure jail time.

Pete stood back up, out of the range of my swing, but I attacked him with a vengeance, rushing at him and hitting his chest with my fists, missing his face. He was the better man and he had me on the ground in a heartbeat, holding me down.

I could hear Melody crying and the whole train car was disrupted. Two or three men helped Pete contain me, telling me, "calm down, buddy, what's the problem?"

"He's fucking my wife, that's the problem. Let me up and I'll leave the train," I said.

Melody cried, "Oh, no, Bill...please don't leave. Bill, please."

The three men, Pete included, eased their hold on me. I slowly got off the floor, went to the sleeper, them following me closely, and got a suitcase. I packed my essentials and stepped off the train, walking away without looking back, seething and breathing utterings of hateful vitriol.

Neither Pete nor Melody had ever seen me so livid, so animated. Like a vicious trapped beast, I am sure they realized that I was a very present threat to them both aboard that train.

I was able to catch a tour bus to Calgary and then flew into Vancouver and on to Denver direct. I was home in two days. They had at least eight more, maybe nine with the connecting flight home, depending how long repairs took in Banff.

I sent the swab from inside Bradley's cheek to the lab. I listed my dental practice including my half of the building and equipment for sale in a professional journal for dentists. The journal also has a strong presence online, so the available business was instantly listed worldwide to any dentist looking to make the move immediately. I paid all outstanding credit cards, utility bills, mortgage payment on the house and car payments out of our existing checking account, which nearly depleted it. I took half the savings, half the certificates of deposit and all my belongings and got ready to move out of our marital home when they returned. She had a credit card in just her name. I did not cancel that one, but I cancelled everything else for which we had joint ownership.

I hired a lawyer and had him draw up divorce papers, which were to be served upon her return home. I also had the lawyer prepare a lawsuit against Pete to dissolve the partnership, with breach of trust, perfidy, alienation of affection and whatever the lawyer could find to support my claims against him for sleeping with my wife over the twelve years we'd been together, effectively breaking up our marriage. 

I spent the eight days before their arrival back in Denver cleaning up all my messes, accounts and business. I received the DNA tests on the day they were to arrive back in Denver from the trip. Bradley was not my son. 

As hard on the boy as it would be, I was innocent of wrongdoing, and I was done paying the price for Melody's and Pete's indiscretions. The boy had to be Pete's, if Melody's claim were true, that 'only he and I had bedded her since our engagement.' Bradley knew Pete well, Mellissa would be his sister, Marsha his step mother, if she decided to stick it out. He would be fine. As fine as any poor bastard could be. 

Like I had said, "The partnership ends here."

In my mind, the onus of support was out of my life, off my shoulders and I just needed to finish the sale of the practice, the building, the equipment and move on.

The offices were still shut down for summer vacation, and it was only July 16, so I had over two weeks before patient issues resumed. I'd thought of just moving my practice, with patients, to another location in Denver. However, after weighing the pros and cons, I just wanted away from Melody and Pete. I never needed to lay my eyes on either one again.

Truthfully, I was so humiliated, hurt and demeaned by Pete's and Melody's treacherous betrayal that I just had no will to resume life as it had been. I should have been more responsible to my patients...those were mistakes I made. 

In my meager defense, I was swamped with emotional distress and my natural instinct to run away overcame my moral duty to stay and fight it out. I am a wimp, but I was not going to suffer their abuse any longer. I'd kill or be killed first.

I'd been humiliated by becoming aware of Melody fucking Pete for years; then again on the train after she knew how seriously I was taking this. I was humiliated on the train by Pete in that fight, facing the train's conductor, humiliated at every turn, in my mind. I just wanted relief from the pain; the pain of humiliation, the pain of anger, the pain of hatred and bitterness. I was emotionally unstable, I am sure, but I knew that to preserve anything of myself, I needed to extricate myself. I needed to let them work out their own problems, with me no part of any of it. I was in self-preservation mode, animalistic with rage. I was a danger to her, to Pete and probably even to myself.

Some might prevail on me to help Melody. 'She has a medical issue,' they may say. I reasoned about that back and forth and decided that she'd had it from before she knew me. I knew she'd had gynecological visits several times. It would have to have been a subject, and even if she didn't mention her condition to her doctor, she was dishonest with me from early on, before our marriage. 

She had options, lots of them through the years, but I was done helping her; it was now time for my self-preservation. 

A Chinese lady once said to me, when I became angry with someone intruding on my massage, "Why do you hurt yourself with anger over someone else's mistake?" I needed to step back, take stock and calm down or I would lose myself in this rage.

I got an offer on my practice before we opened back up August 1. I had finally decided to keep my patients and employees served while I was in secret negotiations to sell. I returned to work, never talking to Pete or Melody, just staying at my apartment and going to work.

The divorce was in the works. Pete had been served his papers; me suing for the dissolution of the partnership with damages, plus back child support. It would be up to him to prove that he wasn't the father, with Melody's claim that he and I were her only partners during the time of Bradley's conception. Nothing more was being dealt with by me, other than negotiation of the sale of my practice and regular, ongoing patient care.

I sold it, finally, in September. I took less that I could have gotten if I'd have wanted to wait it out. But, I did net a small profit. I had to notify the divorce court about my new net worth, including the proceeds of the sale of the business. Fine, I did it. 'Let the fucking continue,' I thought.

Melody made several attempts to talk to me; I refused every one of them. I had Bradley's DNA results inserted into the divorce paper servings so she knew about that. 

By the first of the year, I was extricated entirely from the dental practice and the building. The divorce was not final, but it was rapidly approaching finality, in late January, which would complete the mandatory six months minimum. I just gave her half of everything, she didn't ask for alimony and Brad isn't my child, so there was no child support due there.

The partnership lawsuit and paternity claim still loomed and probably would take a couple of years or so to settle. I was going to hurt him as much as I could, so I didn't care how much time it hung over his head; it was worth it to me.

I only had a license to practice dentistry in Colorado, so I moved to a small town on the Northeastern Plains, Sterling. It is a town of ten thousand folks, about two hours northeast and would suit me just fine. It presented a lot slower lifestyle. I'd have to start up a new practice, go slow, retrain new staff and acclimate myself to my new home, but I had enough of a nest egg to weather most storms that could come my way for a few years, and I was more than willing to do what I had to do to make this work.

Our divorce was finally granted. I never had to talk to Melody, though she wanted to and tried to several times.

To this day I haven't seen Pete. When we ultimately go to court I'll have to face him then, but I am more than willing to air my dirty laundry with him in public, so I have no thought or worry there. 

His attorney did try and settle, but I just told my lawyer, "No settlement, I want a judgment, period." I wanted my day in court, to expose his treachery as a friend, how he went into a business partnership with me, knowing that that would tie my wife and him together, making their trysts appear innocent and more likely. I was after money, sure, but I wanted his actions to face the light of day.

I never talked to Marsha again, either. I wondered how Mellissa was doing so many times but I didn't want to risk Pete being around or him tapping the lines, potentially jeopardizing my suit against him, so I let it hang.

I'd begun to build a good equity; equity in my practice, the building, equipment and our home. I walked away from it all, disgusted, humiliated and furious. 

The issues are still unresolved, somewhat but I am not unhappy now. I am building a new patient load and I have a few friends from around my neighborhood. I don't date too often, but I do occasionally take a twenty five year old hottie out to dinner. She is a patient and that's how I met her. 




What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 01



I did not pursue her, she did me. I finally relented and we went out to eat, to talk, but no sex, yet. Maybe someday there will be, but not yet.

A bitter divorce, betrayal by your best friend and partner are traumatic events. Looking back, I know I mishandled some things. 

But, I can't go back and I won't demean myself to Pete or Melody, so all I can do is do what the old rancher from Sterling says to do, "Brave on, motherfucker, Brave on!"

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Chapter two is written.

Thank you for reading my story. -Pultoy



What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 02



I'm older now than I've ever been, in my whole life.

There are just some things you cannot UN-see, know what I mean? Sometimes tragedy, whether it is someone else's or your own swamps your boat, overwhelms you mentally, after you see it. 

The big heads call it PTSD, or, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I've seen a 9 year old Vietnamese girl who had more miles on her than most people of 50. Something about the 'knowledge of evil' in her eyes; not that she'd done evil just that she'd met him.

We send our 18 year old children into the belly of the beast, to other cultures, other heathen nations to stop the spread of this, to unhinge an unrighteous ruler there, to give democracy a chance over in that place. Only to have our children return to us with a thousand yard stare, remembering things that no man should have to remember, no longer teenagers, but worn out veterans.

Suffering is everywhere, and it must have always been. There were the lame, the mute, the leprous, the demon possessed from the pages of the Holy Bible, there are horrendous accounts of suffering from the plagues in what we term, "The Dark Ages." There is really no end to the documentation of horrid suffering throughout man's history.

But, the worst suffering of all, in my opinion, is that which one man inflicts on another. For, the pain that one person can put on another is almost always coupled with mental anguish, from which there is no escape, no inoculation, and no medication.

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My name is Bill Wilson and I'm a dentist. I was married to a menstrual nymphomaniac for ten years, we dated for three before that; her name is Melody. 

I had a best friend since the third grade, he and I were partners in business after having been very best friends most of our lives, his name is Pete Stone. His wife's name is Marsha.

My wife, before she became my wife, seduced my best friend, Pete, while we all were still in college, during one of her manic sexual frenzies. They continued to have sexual liaisons through the years often, up until I caught them, almost, in the act. I bullied her into admitting her year's long affair with Pete and not long afterwards, I actually caught them in the act. I divorced her, sued him and even saved his little girl's life while the worst of it all was going on, immediately after actually catching them fucking. 

In the saving of his daughter's (Mellissa) life, I risked my own, by intentionally shorting my own medication to see that she had sufficient doses to make it safely to medical help, several days hence.

As it turned out, I was further humiliated by Pete in a fight that I instigated, but Melody had continued to aggravate with her promiscuity.

I was left with nowhere to salvage my dignity, no way to escape the scourge of torment. I played it cool and completed my business, moving away from the two families, bastardizing the son (Bradley) that I had raised as my own, but who wasn't mine, another terrible humiliation and heartbreak for me but for the boy, absolute devastation, I'm sure.

The mental imbalance that had presented itself to me at the time was powerful and I barely managed to keep it at bay while I untangled myself from the throes of my marriage to Melody and partnership with Pete.

I restarted my life in a town two hours away, replaced my dental practice, even dated a few times. But, seething beneath the surface in my mind, were the thirst for revenge and the hunger for inflicting great pain on those who had dealt so treacherously with me.

For the first year, I was literally so wounded that I could not bear the thought of encountering Melody or Pete. My soul was bleeding so profusely, that any slight touch of their hand in my life would have been like the breaking of teeth and then the drinking of vinegar to me; unthinkable.

But, as time passed, I was able to stop obsessing about the pain, and begin a new and rational thought pattern that included revenge, assuming that is rational. "The analgesic for emotional pain: revenge," I began to believe. 

I started to mastermind a plot that would exact their peace for mine, which was the price I had paid to live on in this world.

I had a patient, when I was practicing with Pete as my partner, who was allergic to Novocain, highly allergic to it and we'd had a real episode with him going into anaphylactic shock once. If you have an allergy, when you discover it because of allergic reaction, you must avoid recurring instances of exposure to the substance, because death can occur more rapidly when the body is tuned into its' allergy after repeated instances.  

This patient was very toxic with me, personally, after he'd had the episode in our office and I'd refused to see him again, just avoiding further complications with him. He did, however continue to see Pete from time to time. It was discovered that this patient wasn't allergic to lidocain, which has a slightly different chemical signature than does Novocain.

Anaphylactic shock is what a person goes into when they have an allergic reaction to something that enters their bloodstream; like, some people are allergic to bee stings and can die from one. Epinephrine is a common drug that is kept handy in all doctor and dentist offices in the case of someone going into shock when a drug is administered in the office. Epinephrine is one of the regular drugs that counteract most allergic reactions.

I knew that the only patient that Pete had that ever used Lidocain was this one patient. Novocain or one of the other local anesthetics were used on everyone else. He, that patient, normally would schedule an appointment in January for an examination and any fillings or dental repair would take place at that time.

It had been over five years since I'd left the Practice with Pete. We'd had a settlement of my lawsuit and I'd won half a million dollars from him, plus I'd waged war in open court against him, humiliating him, my ex-wife Melody and embarrassing him in the local paper and before those in the courtroom.

It was but a distant bad memory for the people of my past life. I'd been quiet and nothing much had been heard from me nor had I heard from them in those years.

I did still have a key to Pete's office, which nobody would realize, I reasoned. I'd turned 'all' keys over to the new owner when I sold my practice and there's been no ripple from me for a long while, I should be safe.

Pete was a man who I knew well. He did not tend to details much. He trundled through his life and accepted the lesser resistance as his path, almost always. Pretty much like water seeks its own level; Pete sought his own level, taking the easy way. He'd never think to change locks on his private outside entrance to his office, I was sure.

On Christmas night, five years after the quiet had resumed in his life, after the lawsuit's settlement, when everything should be running smoothly, I entered the dental clinic through Pete's office door. The key indeed was the same as it had always been.

I knew where the epinephrine was kept, my key for the med cabinet still worked, of course. Using a syringe, I sucked half the precious medicine from the vials pouring it down the drain. I replaced it with clear sterile water, diluting it.

The refrigerator housing the Lidocain, Novocain and that sort of medicine was keyed the same as the regular medicine locker and I replaced the one vial of Lidocain with Novocain-labeled as Lidocain, which was deadly to only one known patient. Pete's patient, the man who had been so nasty to me years earlier when the administered dose I had given him caused his allergic reaction was that one.

Sure enough, nineteen days later the morning news was about a patient who had died in Doctor Peter Stone's clinic of anaphylactic shock after Dr. Stone administered Novocain to him. That was something the repeat patient of Dr. Stone should not have suffered, since he was a longtime patient of the dentist, and his allergy would have been well known to the Doctor.

I was busy in my practice in the days and weeks preceding, during and following all the events and had many witnesses, patients, staff, neighbors and friends.

The following days and weeks brought televised tearful explanations from Pete that he had been sure that he'd grabbed the Lidocain bottle. The diluted dose of epinephrine wasn't sufficient to overcome the shock, and the coroner's ruling was that the patient had repeated exposure during his lifetime to Novocain with this final episode being too much for his system. 

Pete lost his license to practice dentistry, but only had a few days in jail after his initial arrest, until he made bail. The courts declared it careless, but not criminal. It could have gone either way, but the courts are what they are. 

I figured the death of the patient was just collateral damage; which is acceptable during warfare, according to my warfare training. It is not desirable, but it is acceptable to the ultimate goal of winning the war. Yep, the ends justify the means.

No longer would Pete Stone be able to follow the path of least resistance. His life would now become one of physical labor to feed his family. I was satisfied with my revenge on Pete.

The revenge on Melody would not be as severe, but would be rewarding, never the less. It did have the possibility of becoming severe, I guess. It depends.

Melody had moved to Cheyenne, Wyoming after our divorce, taking Bradley with her. She was a licensed dental hygienist and was working in a dental clinic there.

I'd taken my vacation the previous year, rented a van with very darkly tinted windows and followed Melody for over a week. I learned her daily routines, her risings and her laying downs, her goings and her comings. She was always a woman of patterns. She liked to establish a rigorous lifestyle, but she didn't like too many changes, so what she did one day, she'd do the next, most probably. She too was predictable. Aren't we all to some extent?

She has a boyfriend, not a husband I found out. He is a salesman for oil and coal mining/drilling equipment and he travels all over Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming and Colorado; which are all oil producing states. He was scheduled to be staying in Grand Junction for a week, calling on customers in the oil shale rich Western Slope areas of Colorado. 

I have a patient from Denver who followed my practice when I moved to Sterling. She loves my painless dentistry techniques and is loyal to me; she is a hooker in Denver, a prostitute. 

She was aghast when I was divorced and had heard rumors of my wife's infidelity. Though this woman sold sex, it was her business. She was sympathetic to me, often comforting me when I saw her for her dental procedures. She'd never offered sex to me, and I'd never asked; I just kept her smile seductive and her teeth in tip top condition. 

For five thousand dollars, Nina agreed not to treat her case of syphilis until she'd seduced our salesman from Cheyenne. I found out she had the disease when she came in for an appointment, and asked for antibiotics from me. She'd looked online and found her symptoms matched those of someone suffering from syphilis. She had reasoned that since she was a prostitute, it was possible, even likely that she had it, and had not been to a physician.

The hooker's name was Nina and she knew how to drive a man to make a fool of himself. She checked in to the same motel and bedded the salesman for three of the five nights that he stayed there. 

I was sure he had her bug. I was in Grand Junction for some of the festivities, though I never got to witness the copulation itself. 

I sat in the bar, nursing my Coors Light watching and listening while she seduced and sold herself to him for additional hundreds of dollars.

Syphilis is easily treated in its' early stages with one shot of Penicillin. But, left untreated for long periods of time, much more serious things can occur.

I didn't really care if Melody and her boyfriend found out they had it or not. Whether they caught it in time or not wasn't my worry, I'd exacted my revenge, and I was sated.

No, I wasn't.

With my rage spent; having the anger lift, I was void. Rage had become my companion, my constant conversation when alone. Though it may be a stupid thought, I realized, "I'm older now than I've ever been in my life."

Of course I was that. But, I felt old, I felt dirty, wicked, evil and unredeemed. My mind was soiled, my soul unwashed. I was a murderer; I had committed medical high crimes, actually doing harm on purpose, which is against the very oath I took, "I will do no harm..."

But, how to come clean? How do I go back and undo what I've done. I'd already paid such a heavy price for life, I was loathe to pay more.

I was waddling along in the foot deep snow of downtown Denver. It was mid-December on a Sunday that the Broncos were playing in town; lost in deep thought, even remorse. The game was in progress and the streets were quiet, except for the homeless. Almost everyone was either at the game or in front of a television. 

I ran into a street preacher down at 17th and Lawrence, His name was Bill, just like my name. I introduced myself and he himself. He was handing out quart thermoses filled with hot tomato soup. He also had a bag full of roast beef sandwiches and he gave me one of those. 

I had been pensive, thinking about the direction of my life when he handed me a thermos and a sandwich, "God loves you, Bill." He said.

"Not me," I smiled, "but thanks for the food, nonetheless." And I begin to slog through the deep snow away from him.

"Do not elevate your sin above the shed Blood of Jesus, brother." The preacher said to me. "He died for filthy sinners, just exactly like you...and me." 

"Naw, I'm too far gone for that shit." I replied. "You don't know what you're talking about, because you don't know what I've done."

"Doesn't matter that I don't know, man; Jesus took it all on long before you ever did it and forgave it. Man has been doing terrible things to one another for centuries, He already knew that and dealt with it two thousand years ago, He said it was finished way back then, and what you need to do is just receive the forgiveness of His sacrifice."

"I ain't goin' to no fucking church, preacher." I spit.

"I never mentioned church, sinner." He spat back.

"So, who do you think you are?" I asked, eyes ablaze.

"Just a messenger, just a messenger." He replied with this palms facing me, fingers spread. "The message is, 'don't elevate your sin above the shed Blood of Jesus.'"

"Yeah, I'll think about it." I said already in deep thought about his words. "Oh, thanks again for the food." I said as I turned away.

"I'll pray for you, Bill." He said. 

"Father, there goes one of your children. He's lost his way. He's drifting, he's headed for a direct confrontation with You and he isn't ready, he isn't covered by Your own preparations which You've made for him. Continue to be merciful; show him The Lamp on his path so that his feet can follow the road that you've set for him. In Jesus' Name, Amen." Bill Wilkerson prayed.

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Thank you for reading my story. 

This chapter was edited by me.

Voting and comments will be turned on when the story is finished, after the next chapter, chapter 3.

-Pultoy 

Chapter 3 is written, is still being corrected.



What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 03



Need waits with longing for the familiar entrance of dear ones who pad barefoot through the soul on ordinary days.

Desperately, the man pressed on the breastbone of the prostrate body of the pretty young girl: One – two – three – four, breath; one – two – three – four, breath... He repeated the cycle of cardio pulmonary resuscitation, that life restoring action that so few actually know how to do. 

The sixteen year old girl threw up, straight into the air, just as the man was about to put his mouth back on hers to fill her lungs with another breath of life. He rolled her to the side to let the vile bile trickle out of her body, and forced open her mouth, to prohibit her from aspirating, breathing her own vomit back into her lungs.

She belched again and more vomit erupted from her belly, then she gasped a huge lungful of air, and her blue lips and fingertips began to return to fleshly color.

The man wiped her mouth with his sleeve, preparing to blow another breath into her if needed. Her eyes fluttered a bit and she breathed again, on her own. He put his ear to her breast and her heart was beating, though irregularly.

He knew that he'd probably broken some of her ribs, maybe even her breastbone while doing the compressions, but he also knew that to actually save her, a certain amount of pressure had to be applied to force the blood through the heart, pumping oxygen throughout her vascular system, feeding her brain cells and keeping them alive.

Bill Wilson had seen the one-car rollover occur just ¼ mile in front of him, as he was returning to his home in Sterling from spending Sunday in Denver, and meeting the street preacher, Bill Wilkerson.

When he pulled up to the scene, he saw the teenaged girl laying just off the edge of the road, her car on its top, the wheels still spinning, steam hissing from broken lines and hoses spewing fluids onto a hot manifold, in the barrow pit beside the interstate highway. It was cold and snowing, there was a foot of snow on the unplowed sides of the road, where the girl lay. The roads were icy and slick; the night, dark.

He knew that they were somewhere near Fort Morgan on Interstate 76. As he was leaving his car and running to the girl he had dialed 9-1-1. While performing the CPR, between breaths, pumping on her chest he described to the operator what was happening and his best guess at his location, then he set his phone down, on speaker mode, and continued administering the lifesaving action to Brittnay Hughes.

The dispatcher's question, "are there others in or around the car?" haunted Bill. He just didn't know and couldn't leave the girl to check for the moment. 

"I don't know, I'll look as soon as I am sure she isn't going to aspirate on her own vomit," he shouted.

After a minute of her breathing on her own, he left her to look around, with only the lights of his own high beams shining into the night for him to see what he could. There didn't appear to be anyone else in or around the car, but he couldn't be for sure and yelled into his phone that information.

"I have an ambulance on the way, sir. According to our GPS coordinates, you are close to mile marker 78, does that sound about correct?" the dispatcher asked.

"Probably, I'm in the eastbound lane." Bill replied. "I can see Fort Morgan's lights, so wherever that is," he added.

He heard the wail of sirens and soon saw the flashing lights headed his way. Passersby began stopping. Bill directed one man with a flashlight to check for others in the car and around it that might have been thrown out or trapped.

Firetrucks were the first to respond, but minutes later the ambulance arrived. They tended to the girl and finally transported her to Colorado Plains Medical Center in Fort Morgan. 

The highways were slick and the Colorado State Patrol was very busy with wrecks on many roads in their district. Their entire on-duty contingent was tied up miles away and would be too far off to respond in a timely manner, so they called a Supervisor out to respond to this accident scene, Lieutenant Darrel Martinez.

Lt. Martinez copied accident information, took measurements, noted skid marks, took photos, wrote down Bill's statement and contact information, finally releasing him to travel on to his home in Sterling, forty five minutes from the scene at regular speeds, but on these icy roads, maybe 90 minutes. 

But, Bill decided to stop by the hospital to see how the teenage girl was doing before going on.

When Bill arrived at CPMC, Brittnay was still being tended to in the Emergency Room and her parents and siblings were huddled in the waiting room. He walked into the area from outside, shaking the snow off his coat and asked the desk clerk about the girl brought in from the wreck on I-76.

Derrick Hughes, Brittnay's dad heard Bill ask and stood to listen to the conversation. The desk clerk asked Bill who he was, and Bill identified himself as the man who came up on the wreck and called it in. Derrick swiftly walked to Bill and introduced himself.

"I...I'm Brittnay's dad I'm Derrick Hughes. Thank you so much for saving my little girl," he said with emotion, tears forming in his eyes. 

"Bill Wilson, Mr. Hughes. Nice to meet you, is she going to be ok?" He asked.

"We don't know yet. They're still working on her. The ambulance crew and firefighters that brought her in said you 'saved her life, no doubt about it; that she wasn't breathing' when you came up on the accident, is that right?" He begged.

Speaking to Bill, "Mr. Hughes, are you this girl's father?" The ER doctor, dressed in green operating gown, asked, walking up to the two men.

"I'm Derrick Hughes, her dad, Doctor, how is she?" her dad interjected, stepping forward.

"She's stable Mr. Hughes. It's a good thing she laid in the cold snow, which slowed her bleeding, she's got a nasty cut on her head and right upper back; and her sternum has been cracked along with two ribs, probably because of the CPR, but I'm cautiously optimistic at this time. We are going to do an MRI and some other tests to see if she has other injuries, so it'll be a while before we know much, but she is stable for the moment. There doesn't appear to be swelling in the brain stem and that is the biggest issue we don't have to face right now."

The doctor and the Hughes's stood and talked for a few minutes. Bill stepped away, affording them their privacy.

After the doctor left, "Mr. Hughes, I'd be interested to hear how your daughter is doing, here is my card, I'd be grateful for a call." Bill said, offering the dad his card.

Annette Hughes, Brittany's mom took the card, crying and stepped toward Bill Wilson with her arms out. "Thank God for you Mr. Wilson; thank God that you were there for our baby. He made a way and you were His tool, thank you so much," She cried.

Bill opened his arms and Annette stepped into them sobbing her "thank you's." Derrick made it a threesome and their two smaller children sat with open mouths watching something they'd never seen their dad do, cry like a baby.

Bill did not join them in their tears. He was pondering the woman's words. He had done what he could, what anyone should do if they could but he was in a world of his own, thinking about the man he'd killed, though it was at the hands of Pete Stone, his ex-partner, thinking about his ex-wife's boyfriend infected with syphilis; Infected because of his actions, his plotting and planning. 

Pete's patient was innocent. But, Pete had lost his license and would suffer for the rest of his life. Pete had cause Bill untold suffering, that is true. But, it was a wrongful death to be sure. 

The boyfriend would never have gotten syphilis if he'd been faithful to his girlfriend, he wasn't going to die, probably, but there was some suffering ahead for both he and Bill's ex-wife, Melody. Turnabout for Melody was fitting, in Bill's mind.

That was something Bill took glee about, making Melody suffer. "After all, she caused me plenty of suffering," he mused.

"What a paradox; what kind of man am I, a murderer or a life saver? Humph, both I guess." He pondered as the girl's parents stood there hugging him and crying, idolizing their daughter's savior.

Bill made his way slowly home that night. He slept fitfully, rolling over and over wrestling with his conscious for the evil he'd committed; against the good works he'd done saving Brittnay Hughes, and lots of other things he did for people. 

He'd always donated dental work to certain folks. He did it quietly. Only he and those individual patients knew. Even his bookkeeper and receptionist didn't know that he skirted charges on some people that he knew were unable to pay for his services.

Bill also gave generously to individuals who had need. He'd often spend Thanksgiving and Christmas delivering foods, dental hygiene products and special treats for kids to needy families, single mothers, homeless and often derelict people. He'd always done stuff like that.

Bill had a tough day at work on Monday, after his encounter with Bill Wilkerson on the streets of downtown Denver, then his lifesaving experience on the icy highways Sunday night and then the distraught parents of the girl. His restless and sleepless night that followed left him moody and pensive all day.

His assistant, Constance Stickner, was wary of him all day. She'd only worked for the dentist for a year and didn't feel that she really knew him well at all. But, he'd never, ever been this way - like today and she was puzzled.

At the noon break, she stepped into his private office as he was sipping on a cup of hot tea and reading a dental journal. "Excuse me, doctor-is everything ok with you today, sir?"

"Come in Connie. Well, to tell you the truth, I'm kind of on the horns of a dilemma today and find myself wrestling." But, he did not volunteer the cause. Bill knew that if your closest associates or friends notice changes in behavior, they resent being lied to, and he felt that he'd do best with Connie if he was honest, yet not revealing. He didn't have to tell her anything substantive, just acknowledge his foul mood, that'd have to suffice.

"Ok, doctor; um, if I can do anything for you, I'll be glad to. My husband thinks the world of you, too and I know he'd be happy to do anything for you, just ask." She said.

Connie knew better than to push. She felt that she just needed to leave the door open; it was all she could do until she got a handle on what was eating at him.

Brittnay recovered well and by late spring she was pretty much back to normal. Her family only had minimal contact with Bill, but Brittnay had talked with him four or five times. Brittnay was a very popular junior at her High School. All the kids seemed to love her and were very happy that she'd survived her tragic accident.

Brittnay talked all the time about the Dentist from Sterling who saved her life. She told and retold her story, what she could recollect about it, to all her classmates and teachers. She even was asked by Lieutenant Martinez, of the Colorado State Patrol to work together with him and put on a safe driving program for the schools in the area. There are five high schools in the county and the Lt. and Brittnay went to every one of them, admonishing the kids to drive with care, speaking on safety issues, showing films and recalling her story.

Sterling, though not in her county is but forty five minutes away. Brittnay asked the CSP Lieutenant if they could give Dr. Wilson some kind of award for his lifesaving efforts that cold December night. It seemed to be a good thing to him and he agreed to set something up.

Brittnay's entire junior class, sixteen Colorado State Patrol cars, including the Chief of the CSP from Denver and those hospital staff, doctors, ambulance crew and firemen that had responded that night all quietly gathered at the dentist's office on the Tuesday after Memorial Day, just five and a half months after Bill had saved Brittnay's life. Reporters from the Denver Post, the Fort Morgan Times and the Sterling Journal Advocate were there, taking pictures and reporting on the story of this surprise award announcement, all angling for the perfect picture, the right approach to a great story, the 'scoop'.

It was a beautiful late May Day, the sun was shining, the trees and flowers were blooming. 

The patrol cars were parked in a circle, surrounding the one thousand square foot dental clinic, all pointing their noses at the building. The firemen, medical people, the school kids and teachers, the Patrol officers ringed the building.

Blaring from the Chief's Patrol car loudspeaker, the chief said, "Doctor Bill Wilson, your building is surrounded. Drop what you're doing and come outside to receive recognition for what you've done."

At that, all the patrol cars hit a five second blast on their sirens. The sound was deafening, threatening even.

There was no response from inside the dental offices. They waited for a minute, then two. The two dental assistants finally appeared and led three patients out with their hands in the air, fear on their faces.

They were greeted with warmth and smiles from the crowds, being told of the special recognition ceremony that was about to take place for Dr. Wilson's quick thinking actions during the winter just past.

But, there was still no Dr. Wilson after three minutes.

Finally, Bill Wilson appeared. He was gaunt, dark circles and bags ringed his red, weary, watery eyes. He looked worried and afraid. The crowd applauded and cheered; to his surprise. 

Brittnay Hughes ran to him and hugged him; the Chief of the State Patrol offered his hand, and his congratulations along with a wood and brass plaque commemorating his brave deed those months before. 

"Speech – Speech – Speech," the crowd cried.

Very quietly, very humbly with head lowered, "Oh, I really don't deserve this, I, I, I've done so much in my life that would take this away." Bill said.

"Nonsense," said the Chief gregariously, "You saved this girl's life by your quick thinking and decisive action. You, sir, are a hero and we are proud to recognize you today as a model for others to look up to." He finished.

Brittnay and her parents hugged Dr. Wilson and everyone clapped and cheered again.

Bill's facial expression changed little. His eyes remained haunted, his posture was stooped, his gaunt profile, once chunky, now very thin, stood meekly.

He took a piece of folded paper from his pocket. He found his glasses and read from the paper.

"My soul hath long dwelt with him that hated peace, but, now, I am peace."

Bill folded the paper and put it back into his pocket. He thanked everyone for coming and looked Brittnay and her folks in the eyes, nodded politely and then he walked back into his clinic, unceremoniously.

Brittnay followed him into the door of his office, "Dr. Wilson, what did that mean? What you just said out there?"

"It's from the 120th Psalm Brittnay. It's just something I remind myself about often. That's all.

__________________________________________________

Brittnay turned seventeen that first week of June, right after her surprise visit with her class and all the Patrolmen to my office.

She drove to Sterling often, just to see me. She was still suffering some of the effects of her broken ribs and cracked sternum, which I had caused when I performed CPR on her back in December. During the summer, she made trips to Sterling three or four times per month, stopping to visit, going to lunch or, even to dinner one evening. 

She said she felt attached to me, and didn't want me to 'get away', whatever that meant. When I was headed to Denver, I'd often be invited to eat at their house on my way through Fort Morgan. Her folks and I became friends, and Brittnay and I drew close.

She talked to me about things in her life, tough subjects in school, cheerleading and sports, cars and driving, and of course - boys. 

She was also very interested in me, asking me about my life as a high school boy, my friendship with Pete and married life with Melody. 

She wanted to know all about me becoming a dentist, about dentistry, almost nothing was off the table and she boldly asked me, sometimes, personal questions. I tried to answer them honestly.

One thing I never admitted to was the murder of Pete's patient and the venereal disease dispatched to Melody and her boyfriend. But, I told her about Melody's menstrual arousal, Pete's treachery and Bradley turning out not to be my son. Brittnay was very physical with me, she touched me, hugged me, kissed my cheeks. She had a habit of wrapping her arm around my arm and rubbing herself on my bicep, when standing talking with someone else, or walking along somewhere. She'd grab my hand in both hers and hold it near her crotch, sometimes touching it to herself slightly.

I had some discomfort with this, she being but seventeen and me forty four. Her folks seemed to see it as true affection for me for saving her life, and they treated me like family just as well.

When school started in the fall, Brittnay was in her senior year. She was excited, bubbly and was constantly inviting me to come to her competitions, see her in the school play, attend whatever she had interest in. We had long phone calls when she didn't have time to come have lunch, and I found myself travelling the forty five minutes to Fort Morgan often that school year to respond to her, or her folks' invitation of one sort or another.

At prom time, late in the school year, there were a few days when I did not hear from her, or her folks. I later found out that she wanted to ask me as her date to prom, but neither her folks nor the school thought that was a good idea, and she was on the warpath with both over it. Her parents had shut her down and forbade her to talk to me about the subject; apparently, she was beside herself with angst over it.

She refused two invitations from young men out of her Senior class and went unescorted rather than be 'disloyal' to me, as she had put it later when we discussed it.

I'd known nothing about her struggle and told her she should have been with her own classmates, partying and enjoying their camaraderie at that important time. 

I attended her high school graduation ceremony. My gift to her was a complete set of luggage from J.C. Penney's. I also gave free dental exams to her and her entire family; including x-rays, cleaning and full diagnosis of any problems they may have. 

Her dad had some serious dental problems and I recommended an oral surgeon to him. The others only had minor, easily repaired issues.

Something had been going on with Brittnay. She turned eighteen in June after her senior year. She said that she was going to put that luggage I'd given her to use, that she had a four week trip that she needed to make. She said she'd be back in Late July or August. Brittnay refused to answer any questions, just reaffirmed her thanks and affection for me. 

Then, in mid-June, she was gone.

I took three weeks off in July, around my birthday and flew to Costa Rica, where I toured a volcano, the rain forest, a butterfly museum, an orchid garden, played on the beaches and enjoyed the night life in San Jose.

When I returned to work the first of August, Brittnay still wasn't home and her folks wouldn't talk about where she was. There seemed to be a strain with them, but I couldn't figure why so I just left it alone. 

My own outlook on life had improved the past year so much. Brittnay, almost single handedly, brought me out of my funk. This young senior in high school was so effervescent and bright and full of life and love, she had such a positive effect on me. Her family's affection to me was healthy for me and I thrived on their caring.

They all remarked at how much better I looked, how I'd toned, tanned and trained myself to live more healthily. I felt so much better.




What is Rabies of a Marriage? Ch. 03



Around the tenth of August, Brittnay walked into my office around closing one evening. She was absolutely stunning. She carried herself differently, she acted more adult, she looked ravishing, her makeup looked professionally applied, her hair had changed, the look in her eye was no longer that of a girl, she had become a woman, and it was obvious to me.

Brittnay wouldn't talk to me of her seven weeks in abstention, she said, "You'll see around the last week of September."

Brittnay was present a lot. She got a job in Sterling and commuted every day, spending her lunch hours with me, many evenings and some partial weekends. I even gave her a key to my house and she kept a change of clothes there and some toiletries, in case she ever needed them. Nothing untoward ever occurred, it was a convenience for her and I did not mind a bit.

The relationship was one of friendship, but I am twenty seven years her senior. She eschewed the advances of all men, choosing to spend her time with me. I nearly asked her about it, but did not want to broach the subject, thinking that she had an infatuation with me, and that it'd pass in due time. But it did not pass, it seemed to enhance. 

I did not fan the flames of her confessed admiration, and even love that she admitted. I suppose I encouraged her with my docile acceptance and admiring looks of approval. Her newfound womanhood was fully established and she seemed to be in full 'mate mode.'

When Friday of the third week of September came around, I received a plain brown envelope addressed to me, marked 'personal and private.' 

It had a return address of 680 Lake Shore Drive in Chicago, Illinois. I opened the magazine sized package and there was a letter from Hugh Heffner; The Hugh Heffner who owns Playboy Magazine. 

It read;

"Dr. Wilson: 

This is to inform you that 'our' girl Brittnay Hughes will be the October Playgirl of the month, with a ten page pictorial layout and four page article. She was interviewed and photographed for the magazine and has credited you as her lifetime number one inspirational person. 

Enclosed is your complimentary copy of the magazine, autographed by both Miss. Hughes and myself. 

We hope you enjoy the layout and article and congratulate you on your enormous effect in this young woman's life. You are prominently mentioned in the article and we request an interview with you for a follow-up edition. We plan for that publication in January or February of next year. At that time, we will feature new photos of Brittnay and some of you and her together, if you agree. You will, of course, remain clothed.

We will gladly pay your travel, lodging and meals for the excursion. If you like, you are invited to spend a week at the mansion during that time.

Best regards,

Hugh Hefner

Playboy Enterprises."

It was signed "Hugh Hefner", though I had no idea if it was his real signature or not.

I will say, the pictures DEFINITELY are of Brittnay. YIKES.

Brittnay must have known exactly when I'd receive my copy of the October Playboy featuring her as the centerfold, along with the letter from Hefner. She did not call or come around that day, at all. I sat in my office, unsuccessful at repressing my erection. The photos were so explicit, so beautiful, and so sexy. 

I finally had to shake the dew off my melon and get back to my patients. From time to time, I found myself shaking like a dog shitting razor blades. That is a bad thing for a dentist to experience. Actually it is a bad thing for a patient to experience.

No communication from her came that evening, I read the article about her life's story and she did, indeed, mention me often. The photos were spectacular, I was enamored and in lust, if not love. It was unavoidable, I poured over the photos time and again, looking at every detail of her face and body. She is spectacular, has a sensational body and face. I'd never realized how gorgeous the girl is. I mean, this is the girl who threw up on me, right?

It was Friday night, I went to bed late, I had nothing planned for Saturday, so I was just hoping to see Brittnay, but not hearing from her all day Friday, I wondered what she was up to.

In the night, I awoke. I sensed her presence. She was standing over me, looking at me; watching me sleep. I opened my eyes and peered into a dark room, only a hint of moonlight filtering through the blinds.  I could see the nude form, with long flowing blonde locks and the distinct right nipple of a perfectly formed C cup breast. It had the full roundness on the bottom, with the ski slope top and the nipple pointing up and out slightly, puffy and erect.

She stood there, motionless, silent, waiting. I had no idea how long she'd been there.

"Brittnay?" I asked.

There was no answer. I thought I heard a sniffle, a small whimper. She was waiting for an invitation; she was not going to be aggressive, beyond what she had done. It was up to me to accept or reject her.

I moved the covers aside, revealing my nakedness and invited her into my bed. "Come here, girl."

"Bill, I love you. I've tried not to. My folks have asked me to go out with men my own age, my friends all think I'm crazy, I can't help it, I love you and I want you." She cried. 

"If you don't want me, I think I'll die." She cried as I gathered her into my arms, holding her naked form against me from toe to head touching along the way everywhere.

Our lips found one another. We mashed our faces together, opening our mouths and burying our tongues in one another's mouth, sucking in air from our noses. Our bodies rubbing and writhing together, touching each other in places neither had ever even seen in person.

She threw her top leg over me, my erection touched her wet labia, she thrust herself onto me, I was buried to the hilt as we lay side by side. I had masturbated three times during the evening and would last a long time. 

Not so, Brittnay. She was aroused, highly aroused. She began an ascent to climax that only climbed higher and higher as we copulated, thrusting, pushing, and grunting; fucking.

Brittnay started with a low guttural growl but her decibel level screams became shattering to my ears as she held onto my upper body with both arms fiercely, screaming into the side of my head, pushing back at me as we continued mating.

After many minutes, I felt my orgasm rising within me. My prostate signaled my brain that a great event was about to take place and I became aggressive, animalistic in my wanton arousal. I began to control the tempo, squeezing her body, pumping in and out of her. She was wild, out of control not limp but not quite spastic. 

I orgasmed with a shudder. Not much seminal fluid erupted, only a small amount found its way into her womb. But, my internal orgasm was as intense as any I'd ever had. I was spent, she was unconscious, and I was still rooted deep inside her velvet glove. We lay wrapped in one another, breathing in and out deeply, wordlessly.

The room was dark; I could barely make out her facial features as she lay in my arms, her mouth open, her head arched back, her legs splayed with me in between them, buried deeply inside her. We slept like that on our sides, face to face.

The day broke cloudy, a light rain dripped outside as I returned to consciousness. I had slipped outside her body, but was still touching her...there. We had not moved through the night, we were wrapped in one another's arms. Only my cock had shrunk and departed its' nest inside her.

I watched her as she slept. How beautiful, to be sure. This eighteen year old had saved herself for me, then gone off to find out how to make love, and returned to bless me with the fruits of her labor. 

She had learned at the hands of professionals how to make herself beautiful, how to make sex, how to interest an older man. She learned it from a master, Hugh Hefner himself. 

The October layout had paid her one hundred thousand dollars and gave her a fifty thousand dollar scholarship to any college of her choice. She'd make residuals from appearances, signings and anything else that either the magazine or she could figure out that would profit her.

She was obligated to go on tour, promoting the magazine. It had hit the streets Friday, the day before, and she was due in Atlanta Saturday night. She'd be gone the rest of September and all of October. 

She woke from her slumber, spoke of these things and wept in my arms, promising me fidelity, love and her very heart. She asked me to wait for her, and not to think harshly of her for what she'd done. 

She said she'd been approached by a talent scout when she was still in high school. All the publicity surrounding her accident and my involvement had highlighted her raw beauty to someone in Denver, who Contacted Chicago who sent a scout to interview her. 

She said that she'd thought how best to win me, and it was not as a girl but as a woman. She decided to submit herself to the process of becoming a Playmate, which she hoped would appeal to me from a totally different angle. She got it right. That much I have to admit.

We talked that Saturday morning as we showered, dressed and I drove her into Denver International Airport for her Atlanta Flight. We talked about us, of all things. She wanted to know if I wanted her. And, she offered herself to me, if I did. 

We discussed the age difference. She cursed the subject, telling me that she wanted whatever of my life I'd give her, up to and including my last breath. She professed her love to me, unqualified.

I brought up the subject of her sexual exposure to the world, that she'd be the prize of thousands of men who she'd be exposed to in the coming weeks and months. 

I offered her her freedom to pick from the crop; that I'd understand. I asked her not to commit to me and then betray me, it would kill me. 

She said, "I'm yours if you want me. If not, I'm nobody's."

"If you'll wait for me to get back, if you can wait, I'll prove it every day, every way. You'll be so glad that what went on in your marriage happened, so you could enjoy this relationship with so much more zeal." She promised. "You won't be sorry."

I did not give her an answer. We were in the airport, she needed to board, and she looked at me, breathlessly, hoping for some indication.

"I'll be here, waiting for you." I said as she walked toward the gate to board her plane. "I'll wait. I love you." I trembled.

Brittnay turned and ran into my arms, sobbing. 

The loading clerk implored her to get on the plane or be left behind.

I pushed her away, "Go, little one. Have fun, experience your life and I'll be here for you when you get back. Now, go."

She barely made her flight. I followed her in the news. The questions were always about her man back home who'd saved her life. She answered over and over, she couldn't wait to get back and hold him again. 

At the end of October, Halloween, Playboy flew me to Chicago for the first week of November. Brittnay ended her tour in Chicago and we met up there, at the 'mansion.'

Mr. Hefner and his staff were helpful and kind. They provided me with every courtesy, including two days alone with Brittnay before we began interviews and a new pictorial for her. Her October issue was a smash hit and the next pictorial was now scheduled for February. They needed the time to get it all down right. 

I did an interview, we were photographed together and she told her story up to that point. She'd be up for Playmate of the year. With a pictorial in October of one year and February of the next year, she'd be eligible for two different Playmate of the Year awards. It was highly unusual, but she is highly unusual.

She was not selected as POY for either year. After her celebrity died down a bit, she returned to Sterling to live with me. She'd become relatively wealthy, in her own right, for such a young woman.

I urged her to enroll in college and get her degree. She didn't want to leave me, and there were no four year colleges out where we lived. I decided to sell my practice, retire from Dentistry and support her in her education.

I still had money from the settlement with Pete, I'd saved through the years and had made great money as a dentist. I sold my practice for a good profit and felt that I was set well enough to retire early, at forty six. I could always work in someone else's office if I needed or wanted to go back.

And that is exactly what we did. We moved to Gunnison, Colorado. It is the home of Western State College; it is in the mountains of South central – west, Colorado. Brittnay started her freshman year at twenty and graduated four years later with a teacher's certificate, licensed to teach math. 

I joined a local dentist and worked part time in his office with him, but had no ownership of the practice for those years.

Brittnay got a job at a small high school in Southwestern Colorado, teaching math and coaching girls' volleyball. We savored every moment together, loving one another with fury, passion and dedication. 

My life turned out so well. I am married to a woman who loves me, who wants me, who lusts for me, and only me. Men from around the world have offered her great wealth, fame, luxury and comfort for her favors, only to experience her refusal and to hear her profession of love for the man who saved her life.

That may be true, but there is another truth, also. She saved my life, too. 

------------------------------------------------- 

Need waits with longing for the familiar entrance of dear ones who pad barefoot through the soul on ordinary days.

The End

------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading my story.

Voting and comments for the entire story are now turned on here after chapter 3.

This was edited by me.

-Pultoy