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Mental Toughness Pt. 01

By: amischiefmaker



All of the names, ages, and places in this story have been changed to prevent the guilty from suing my ass.

*****

Since I, Brad Westin, was ten years old I wanted to be a Navy SEAL. The sports that I got interested in, and excelled at in High School, were swimming, karate, and lacrosse, which I considered to be good training for becoming a SEAL. I also took survival courses and went to summer wilderness camps, again in preparation to fulfill my goal.

Lots of kids want to grow up to be 6'4" 230 pounds and play linebacker. I always wanted to be 5 feet 10 inches, 185 pounds, the average size of a SEAL. It doesn't do you any good to be 6'4" 230 pounds if you want to become a SEAL because that size is a disadvantage in everything that SEALs do except hand-to-hand combat; the Navy gives you millions of dollars' worth of training, weapons, and equipment to keep you out of hand-to-hand combat situations as much as possible. I almost met my goal. When I graduated from college I was 5'11" tall, 180 pounds.

To fulfill my dream I went to a university that had a Naval ROTC program. During my four years in college I excelled in the ROTC courses. I never was shy about expressing what my goal was. For the first two years my commanders made no comment. Starting about the middle of my junior year they started trying to discourage me. The Chief who was more or less the career counselor for ROTC students was especially adamant.

"Westin, you understand that first you have to qualify physically and mentally to even be considered, and of those that do qualify between 80-90% wash out during training," was Chief McNamara's common refrain.

"Yes sir," I would always reply. I would be an officer and technically the Chief's superior once I graduated, but not until then, and even then you never argue with a Chief. "However, sir, I know that I can make it and I could never forgive myself if I didn't try."

"You know that if you select the SEAL program and washout that they might boot you out of the Navy completely; you're too good of a potential officer for me to want to see that," the Chief started telling me a few months before graduation. I didn't really believe him that the Navy would spend tens of thousands of dollars putting me through school and then not transfer me to some other part, because that just isn't logical. What I forgot is that logic and the Armed Forces do not co-exist well. I selected SEAL training when I graduated. McNamara merely shook his head and said "Good luck!"

Most guys who washout - if you ever find out about it at all since they usually do not broadcast it - will tell you that they got injured, their grandmother had an ingrown toenail, or their childhood dog ate some chocolate and had to have her stomach pumped - or some such bullshit. In fact, they most likely washed out because they weren't mentally tough enough. Even though I was the second to last to washout in my class that is what happened, and it was - much to my dismay and very hard to admit to myself - because I wasn't mentally tough enough.

Wouldn't you know it - Chief McNamara knew what he was talking about. Two weeks after I washed out I got a letter from the Secretary of the Navy which read, in part: "The Navy does not presently have any openings for other officer positions," since all of the ROTC grads throughout the country had now made their selections and the re-enlistment rate was at an all-time high because of the civilian economy, "therefore your Naval obligation is satisfied and you are hereby honorably discharged."

I resolved right then that there would be nothing else, ever, in life that I would fail at for lack of mental toughness. The humiliation I felt I never wanted to experience again.

************** 

Since my parents never had to pay a dime for college, and they were pretty well off financially, they agreed to pay for half of my law schooling since my college degree didn't translate into any worthwhile professions given the economy at the time. I had saved some of my own money, and by working part time was sure that I could swing the rest. Despite the fact that I had long ago missed the application deadline, when a spot opened up in a decent law school in City X three days before class was supposed to start, I jumped at the chance to fill it.

The summer after my second year of law school, since I had done very well and since the professor at my school that ran the pro bono outreach program for third year students liked me, I started getting real life experience. 

One of the things that I did was to go to a volunteer day, a Saturday, where professionals from all walks of life would give free advice related to their area of expertise to anyone who showed up. The booth I manned with my professor and three other students was right next to MegaBank's booth, manned by three eager young account managers and overseen by a female V. P. whose name tag read "Amber Miller."

The only way to put it is that Amber Miller was a stone cold fox. Long shapely legs, big hips, round ass, tight midriff, ample tits, long auburn hair, a Celestial nose, full lips, intense green eyes, and sophisticated yet provocative attire. She was simply a walking wet dream!

I had had my share of relationships by that time - I was almost twenty four - although none had lasted more than six months. I wasn't anywhere close to being a virgin since I had lost that moniker on my eighteenth birthday, but I was not the most experienced guy around either. I did have a summer fling before my senior year in college with a thirty nine year old divorced friend of my mother's, however, which gave me a great deal of confidence around women. That wonderful experience meant that I wasn't intimidated by the fact that Amber was likely ten years older than I was.

Even if not intimidated by Amber's age, I should have been by her looks. Strangely I wasn't intimidated.

I offered to help Amber's people set up their booth. I was as strong as her three workers combined and they had a heavy table and panels, so she smiled and said "That would be great - Brad," fingering my name tag as she said that - a good start.

The excuses I used to interface with Amber the rest of the day were obvious to both my co-volunteers and hers, but everyone - including Amber - just smiled. She never discouraged me. When we were closing up at about 6:00 I declined the ride I had gotten to the event from my professor and helped Amber bring things to her car.

"Thank you sooo much for your help Brad," she said in a sultry voice. The touch of her hand was even sultrier as I held it tightly but only lightly shook it.

"It was my pleasure - and it was all for a good cause. Between the two of us we must have helped one hundred needy people today," I replied with a big grin.

"I hope so," she chuckled. "If you'll let go of my hand I'll treat you to dinner," she continued with a sly grin.

"Oh...sorry," I said, although I wasn't, as I released her hand. "I do have to eat; I'd really appreciate it."

To look like a lawyer I had dressed in a coat and tie and Amber had on a stylish dress, so she took me to a restaurant about three price points higher than I had ever eaten at before in City X. I did my best not to be impressed, although I was, especially with her familiarity with all the things on the menu and the wine list. I drank little wine, but I did enjoy what I drank.

We really hit it off. She was a well-read person, and I could nicely fake being well-read, and we had a number of interests in common, including water sports. It might have been my best first "date" ever.

Since Amber had consumed most of the wine, I offered to drive her car, a Mercedes 500 SL, home after profusely thanking her for treating me to a great (no exaggeration) meal. She accepted. The amount of her creamy white right thigh that she exposed on the drive home did not miss my notice - and it had a "salutatory" effect on my cock so my tented pants could not have missed her notice either.

She lived on the fifth floor of a downtown luxury condo, only about six blocks from the law school, and seven from my apartment. As we entered the lobby to her building she almost got in my face, put her hand on my chest, and asked "Are you expecting me to ask if you want to come in for a cup of coffee?"

At that moment I decided that I was going to be patient and be in it for the long haul. She was the most beautiful and sexiest woman that I had ever had a date with, she was smart, fun, had at least somewhat of a social conscience to have spent her Saturday volunteering, and wealthy. Does it get any better than that?

I can't believe what I said next. "Amber - what I expect is your phone number, and for you to go paddle-boarding and water skiing with me next Saturday; and I expect to fall in love with you; and I expect to have a passionate long term relationship with you." 

I brazenly continued, "Oh, and by the way - the fact that I'm twenty four," in three months, but who's counting, "and you're likely twenty nine," I was sure that she was around thirty four, but she would like hearing twenty nine better, "doesn't mean shit to me. The best relationship I've ever had so far was with someone eighteen years older than I was, so when I call you don't you dare try to use that as a reason to decline my invitation."

Then I held out my hand. "Do you have a card with your cell phone number on it?"

The look on her face was priceless; I mean completely precious. I think that she might have been expecting a one night stand, but whatever she was expecting it wasn't what I said. When she finally recovered from her gap-jawed condition she reached into her purse, pulled out a business card, clumsily wrote her cell phone number on the back, and sheepishly handed it to me.

"Thanks," I said. I stuck the card in my jacket pocket, picked her up in my arms, planted as zealous a twenty second kiss on her lips as I could possibly give, set her down, smiled, and turned and walked home to my apartment feeling on top of the world. 

When I called her Monday evening the call went to voicemail. "Hi, Amber, this is Brad. I'd love to get together with you for some water sports this Saturday. Please call me back at xxx-555-5555 if you have any interest. I would love to see you in a bikini - wait, did I really say that out loud? Ha, ha, ha..." was the tailing off message that I left.

She called me back in ten minutes. We had a nice chat, she accepted my invitation, I told her that it would probably be with four of my classmates, two male, two female. "I hope that I don't look like an old-fuddy-duddy next to your girl colleagues," she said. 

"I would be VERY surprised if that was the case, unless you were wearing the tightest corset in history on Saturday," I chuckled. "I'll call you about details."

Now I had to deliver. 

There was a casual friend of mine by the name of Jeremy in my Contracts class. I knew him well enough to know that his parents lived in the suburbs, also had a lake house, and were filthy rich. He was a little shy, but obviously had an attraction to Sally and Jen, two of our female classmates. I finessed it beautifully; I got Sally and Jen to commit to a day of fun on the water (I "hope" that neither got the impression that they were my date), then called Jeremy up and gave him the opening to invite us to his parents' lake house with his best friend from college. I borrowed a car, picked up Amber first, then Sally and Jen (who lived in the same apartment building), and drove out to the lake house.

I think that Sally and Jen were a little non-plussed by Amber's presence, but they could tell that she was older, and she had a long cover-up on, so they weren't threatened. That is until they saw Amber just in her bikini; scowls immediately appeared on their faces, while smiles and immediately-in-place wrap-around sunglasses appeared on Jeremy's and his friend's faces.

Selecting water sports for this date was not an accident. I had excelled at them since my early teens, including being an All-Conference breast-stroker (the pool kind, not what you're thinking HDK) in High School; and I was proud of my six pack and muscle tone in general because even though I washed out from the SEALs I still had the body that I did then. I could still do thirty pull-ups and an endless number of sit-ups. It was my mind, not my body, that had gotten me washed out.

Enhanced by several twelve packs of beer, after a little awkwardness to start the day, the six of us truly enjoyed ourselves. We went paddle-boarding and kayaking, since Jeremy's parents had almost every water toy imaginable, in addition to skiing and wake-boarding behind his parents' twenty four foot Sea Ray. I had brought both vegetarian and meat dishes for lunch, and we all went out to a seedy nearby crab shack for dinner. I do believe that Jen actually started to be somewhat attracted to Jeremy by the time that I took the three women home at ten that night, and Sally to Jeremy's friend.

As for me - I was smitten; no two ways about it. Amber had it all!

************* 

After I dropped Jen and Sally off I took Amber home. This time she didn't ask. "Brad, I will be very disappointed if after this lovely day you don't come upstairs and put some Aloe on my sunburned back," she said reaching inside my shirt and pulling my chest hair.

I didn't even let her get to her bedroom before I was tonguing or manipulating every part of her shaved pussy, ignoring her pleas that she needed to shower the lotion and sweat off of her. "You're a woman, not a doll," I grumbled without really letting up on my attack of her pussy. If I could have sustained the zeal that I had in abusing her pussy when I was in SEAL training I never would have washed out. 

After I had her screaming so loudly twice that I thought that the neighbors might call the cops, I lifted her naked body up, bent her over a low back chair in her living room, buried my cock in her pussy in one thrust, and proceeded to bang the shit out of her. She had another orgasm when I pulsed several wads of cum into her pussy, and shortly afterward we fell to the ground.

"You really go after what you want, don't you," she chortled as we lay side-by-side with big grins on our faces. "That was fun!"

"Just 'Fun;' that's the understatement of the decade as far as I'm concerned," I chuckled back. "You're a sex goddess!" I started sucking her boobs; she lay back and giggled. 

After some more "pillow talk" - I guess technically it was "rug talk" - she expectantly said "I did invite you up to put aloe on my sunburned back."

"You're not sunburned - but I will give you a massage if we can have a repeat," was my eager reply.

I did give her a massage; I did fuck her twice more that night, once sitting face-to-face on the edge of her bed, the other with her ankles on my shoulders. We had a shower fuck the next morning before she made blueberry pancakes and sausage.

As I was filling my mouth with the eighth pancake I mumbled "Is there anything that you can't do?"

"What do you mean?" she asked with a grin.

"You water ski like a pro, you're a vice president of a bank at twenty nine, you fuck like a wild woman, and you make pancakes that put Aunt Jemima to shame; that's what I mean," I said between bites of pancake and sausage.

"About that - I'm thirty three, not twenty nine, although I thank you for pretending differently," she giggled.

I nonchalantly replied "I don't care if you're fifty three; you're beyond awesome!"

As I got ready to leave about noon, she snuggled her still naked body up to me. "Brad, I had a fantastic time yesterday - and an even better time last night and this morning. I hope to see you again - but I don't want you to get serious about me. I've been a party girl most of my life, and you're too young for me."

I stared into her eyes without saying anything for a good thirty seconds while she started to fidget and look uncomfortable. "You're not a fling to me. I've already fallen in love with you; at least I think that I have because I've never been in love before and you make me feel differently than anyone else ever has. I'm looking for a commitment, not a good time. If you change your mind, call me - but I can't see you again if you're only looking for an occasional tryst and not a relationship."

She was more stunned than after my speech the first time that we went out after the volunteer day.

I picked her up, gave her the most passionate kiss that I could, smiled, put her back down, and then walked out the door without looking back. As I was getting on the elevator I glanced toward her condo and saw her standing in the hallway, still naked, and dumbfounded.

When she hadn't called after two weeks I was a little sad, but philosophical. "She was out of your league anyway," I told myself.

My classmate Jen - who thought that she was going on a date with me when we went to the lake - was working as a summer intern at the same law firm that I was. When she asked about Amber and I told her that I hadn't seen her since the day after we went to the lake she got real chummy. We became friends with benefits for the rest of the summer, and it was fun; actually fantastic. The only complication - half the time that I was fucking her I was thinking of Amber.

************** 

By the end of the summer I was starting to rethink whether Jen could be more than a friend-with-benefits. In actuality, the only thing wrong with her was that she wasn't Amber. Jen was beautiful, sexy, smart, compassionate, fun, and loyal. Once I convinced myself that I would never see Amber again, I was seriously thinking about talking with Jen about a real relationship; possibly marriage. 

After the second week of classes in my last semester (I was on track to graduate a semester early) I had forgotten to turn my cell phone off on Friday night and it rang in the middle of the night, waking me up. Jen was snuggled up next to me. I looked at the digital time on my iPhone: 3:37 a. m. Caller ID said that it was from Amber.

"Hello," I groaned into the phone.

I won't attempt to mimic Amber's speech because that would be too difficult. Suffice it to say that it was very slurred. I removed her occasional giggles, swear words, groans, and belches from what I remember it to be, below.

"Hi, Brad, this is Amber."

"Yes, I know Amber; I can see your name on caller ID. Why are you calling me at 3:30 in the morning?"

"Brad, you haven't called me for months, so I thought that I'd call you, plus I have an immediate problem."

"What's your problem?"

"Well there are some guys here who won't leave; Millie and I were out with them but now we don't like them and they won't leave my condo."

I remembered Amber talking about Millie. As I recalled it, Millie is Amber's best friend. She has a Master's Degree in nursing and is a practicing head nurse at a clinic and teaches part-time at the local university nursing school. I had not met her at that point; all that I knew was the little that Amber had told me about her.

"Well call the police, that's what they're for."

"I can't have any police report; it wouldn't look good for my work; plus we don't want them arrested, just gone."

"Well what do you expect me to do?"

"Hell, Brad, you're an ex-SEAL and karate expert, you can kick them out. Please, I'll do anything for you."

I didn't bother to remind her that I had washed out of the SEALs and that a brown belt in karate doesn't make me an expert. 

"How many are there, Amber."

"Four - I think."

"I'll come over to talk to them; I'll be there in ten minutes."

Jen was awake. She had heard my part of the conversation. "Are you really that pathetic that you're going to go to her rescue after she hasn't communicated with you for months?"

"I have to Jen; I can't see her hurt even though I don't have an emotional attachment to her anymore," I whined. "Could I use your car?"


Mental Toughness Pt. 01



Jen turned her back on me. "The keys are on your dresser, asshole!" she yelled.

I didn't blame her for being pissed.

If there were four guys I needed a weapon - just in case - even if they were as drunk as Amber sounded. The only weapon that I had - but one that I was very familiar with and had even trained with - has the ridiculous name of "Travel Wrench." The makers apparently want to disguise that it is a weapon so they put hex holes in it and stamped "Travel Wrench" on it.

In actually the Travel Wrench is an angled piece of very hard, though light, plastic with a ring at one end through which the user places his index finger, and a hand grip, with finger contours, in the middle. When gripped the right-angled free end of the weapon extends past the user's hand and acts much like brass knuckles if it impacts a combatant.

I got to Amber's condo in ten minutes and illegally parked on the street. She buzzed me in, and when I got off the elevator I saw this really big guy coming out of her condo. He must have been six five, two eighty. "Shit," I said to myself. "I hope that he's really drunk and leaving, and that the other three are smaller than he is."

As I approached him he did a double take and said "Are you the fucking Ninja coming to kick us out?"

"I'm not a Ninja but I hope to talk you into leaving - I see that you are, so I trust that you'll just keep going," I said, trying to sound firm, but non-threatening.

"Fuck no, I'm gonna fuck Amber again," he said, pushing me against the wall as he turned to go back toward her condo.

Fortunately, he really was drunk otherwise I never could have taken him even with the Travel Wrench. I hit him two quick blows on the side of his head with the Travel Wrench, and he collapsed on the hallway floor, and puked his guts out.

Amber's door was unlocked. A guy about my size was pawing Amber, while a guy almost as big as the one I had just hit was really forcing himself on the woman who I assumed was Millie. I didn't see the third guy. Everyone was naked.

I grabbed the hair of the guy pawing Amber, yanked him down to the ground, and stomped on his throat with my heel. He gagged and rolled around in obvious pain - he was out of the fight.

The big guy heard his gagging and turned toward me. He was another guy I never could have beaten if he was sober. He wasn't - he was even more drunk than the other big guy.

"Get your clothes on and leave now," I said firmly.

"You fucking asshole," he yelled as he charged. He was off-balance, hit his shin on the coffee table as he bulled ahead, and left his groin unprotected. I gave him a side karate kick in the nuts and he collapsed screaming. I hit him with a hammer fist - with the end of the Travel Wrench - on top of the head, and he splayed out.

A third guy came out of the bathroom - he was the best dressed of the group; he had boxers on. He was a little bigger than I was, but not much.

I pointed at him. "Your three friends are incapacitated and hurting badly. You have two choices. You can help me get them into the elevator and out of the building, or I can beat the shit out of you."

He was either not as drunk as, not as stupid as, or more cowardly than, the other three. "OK, OK - let me get dressed," he pleaded, holding out his hands in a "peace" gesture.

As he dressed I pulled the guy I had stomped on onto his feet, handed him a pair of pants - they looked like they would fit him - and told him "Put them on or I stomp you again."

He did as told, still gagging.

The dressed reasonable guy and I dragged the big guy in the condo out the door. Fortunately the really big guy was gone, although his puke was still there. The guy gagging, the reasonable guy, and the almost unconscious big guy and I were all in the elevator together. We dragged the big guy onto the street, the other two guys took off, and I went back to the condo to get the big guy's clothes. I collected them quickly and went to leave.

Amber and Millie, completely wasted, started slobbering thanks and were trying to grab me. They were still naked. Millie was almost as good looking as Amber. I didn't like the bite marks on Amber's tits or what looked like caked cum on her thighs. "Brad, why..." she started to say.

"Sorry, Amber, I have got to give the big naked guy his clothes," I said as I hustled out the door. By the time that I got downstairs the big guy was sitting up, holding his head with one hand and his nuts with the other. "Put these on and get the hell out," I snarled as I threw the clothing at him. I then got in Jen's car and left. I was back in my apartment in a little over forty five minutes.

I was relieved when I saw Jen still in the bedroom. I wasn't pleased when she sat up and looked at me. "Now that my car's back I can get the fuck out of here," she snarled. I tried my best to pacify or cajole her. She said nothing else as she got dressed. I yelled "I'm sorry, Jen, really sorry," as she stormed out the door.

"Great," I thought to myself. "There goes great sex and a possible great relationship. Obviously Amber's a tramp; it wasn't worth it."

Starting about ten Saturday morning my cell phone started ringing every fifteen minutes. It was Amber, leaving message after message. I didn't want to answer or listen to them yet. I was going to try to repair the situation with Jen first.

I tried to call Jen. She was apparently taking the same approach with me that I was with Amber. After three unanswered calls I went to her apartment. She answered the door.

"I'm truly sorry, Jen..." I started to say as soon as the door opened. She held up a hand in a "Stop" motion, and then delivered a clearly rehearsed but very effective "closing argument."

"Brad you were honest with me from the start that you carried the torch for Amber. I started out without true emotional attachment to you, but I couldn't help myself. I fell in love, and I held out hope that you did too because you treated me nicer than anyone else ever has. Last night brought home how stupid my dream was. I'll be recovered by Monday and will still be your friend, but there will be no more 'benefits.'"

With that she slammed the door shut.

"WOW - she's going to make an awesome trial attorney," I said to myself as I shuffled out of her apartment building, feeling like shit.

I took a long walk before I returned to my place. There was Amber, sitting outside my door. I groaned. 

"I don't know how you found me, Amber," I said, "but now is a bad time."

She hopped up, blocked my path and grabbed my lapel. "I want an exclusive relationship with you," she blurted out and then tried to kiss me.

"Whoa; then why didn't you call me. I made it clear after our lake date what I needed from you..." I replied before being cut off.

"I've thought of you every day since then; I want you to give me a chance; I know that last night was hard on you as evidenced by the fact that you never came back to the condo to accept my thanks; but you won't regret it," she continued, starting to tear up. This time I didn't stop her from giving me a quick kiss on the lips - but I didn't let it linger.

"Maybe we should talk," I said, unlocking my apartment door.

I motioned for her to sit opposite me at the kitchen table. The chairs weren't comfortable; I didn't want either of us to be comfortable.

"I have lots of questions about whether we could be compatible, Amber, despite your many good qualities. What I saw last night really disturbed me."

"I'll not try and insult you by making excuses. Millie is a bad influence on me, I drank too much, and I get too amorous when I drink. I know better, but I still did it. It was good in one sense because how out-of-hand it got ensures that I'll never do it again. It made me realize - especially after you rescued Millie and me - that I don't just want a relationship with you - I need one." She sniffled a little. "I've never begged a guy for anything before; I'm not good at it; tell me what I need to do."

I sat there staring at her for the longest time, making eye contact throughout. I'm not sure that either of us blinked. Even dressed in jeans and a regular blouse and with no makeup on she was beyond alluring. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," popped into my head.

"I don't know if your pride could take the three conditions I'll lay out," I said.

"Try me," she replied with a determined look on her face.

"Number one, we're completely exclusive unless one of us officially breaks it off before we become non-exclusive. This is both sexually AND romantically. Two you get a complete battery of tests for STDs and we do not get intimate unless and until you come back with a clean bill of health - in writing." She winced at that, but only for a split second, and then regained her composure although her eyes got a little moister.

"Three, you buy me a pearl necklace - a real pearl necklace - to give to the woman I was having a relationship with when you called Friday night - I guess, technically Saturday morning - and ended it."

"What kind of pearl necklace?" was her first question.

"Get one that you would wear to a nice social event; one that you would be happy with." I didn't know shit about pearls; all that I knew is that Jen coveted one but a law school student can't afford one. I was sure that Amber could.

"Can we date before the STD test comes back?" was her second question.

"Yes, but not before you bring me the necklace," I replied.

She got a big smile on her face, got up, gave me a peck on the lips and said "Meet me at the Chart House restaurant at 7:00 tonight; smart casual dress; come hungry. You'll be happy with the necklace."

I was sure that I would be.

Amber handed me a box containing the necklace as soon as she walked up to the restaurant - at 6:55. OK, so I was anxious and early too. I looked in the box. It took my breath away. "Wow, this looks expensive," I whistled. "How much did it cost?"

"About one fiftieth of what even a short relationship with you is worth. Let's just say that this woman" - then she paused waiting for me to supply a name. I shrugged my shoulders and said "Why not?" to myself.

"Jen."

"Let's just say that Jen will be pleased; really pleased; pleased enough to try and fuck you, but you'll resist," she giggled, then hugged me.

That night Amber and I got reacquainted at dinner, and by a stroll along the waterfront. Since we knew that it wasn't going to end in sex that took some of the pressure of rekindling off, and we simply enjoyed each other's company. We did passionately kiss goodnight, but as far as I know you can't get most STDs from that.

I waited until Monday to give Jen the necklace. She was friendly but guarded when we talked. "After Administrative Law I have something I need to give you," I told her as we walked into the only class we were taking at the same time that semester. She gave me a skeptical look but nodded "OK."

In the Quad after class I held up the box and said "This is a peace offering and the biggest 'I'm Sorry' I can provide. Please, please, please accept it."

She took the box, looked inside, started crying, and ran off with it. Two days later she told me how much she loved it, then smiled and gave me the peace symbol. I smiled back. She was my best friend at school the rest of the semester.

A proven STD-free Amber was my best friend outside of school; and the sex was even better than during our first romp. She was simply all-time!

************* 

By the time that I graduated law school four months later there was no doubt in my mind that I was madly in love with Amber, and unless she was both a pathological liar and great actress she was madly in love with me. I got a job with the Public Defender's office, borrowed money from my parents to get Amber a decent - though not near the quality of the pearl necklace - ring, and asked her to marry me.

Fortunately I proposed to Amber while we were in her condo after a fun night bowling and playing pool - something that I was surprised that she really enjoyed. Without verbally responding she nodded for me to put the ring on her finger. When I did in her most sultry voice she said "Actions speak louder than words," and proceeded to turn into a complete animal and fucked and sucked me through four of the most sensational orgasms of my life!

I moved into her condo the next day, and we were married three months later. How she arranged the big wedding that we had in that small amount of time I didn't find out until later - she had picked the date, put a deposit on the place, and had already hired a wedding planner three months before I proposed.

Surprisingly neither her parents nor mine made a big deal out of the age difference. The mothers were sanguine because they could sense that we were truly in love. I knew that my father wouldn't object once he saw a photo of her in a bikini. Her father was won over when I insisted on a pre-nuptial agreement to protect her assets, although I had an ulterior motive; a fidelity clause. 

I was very generous in the financial terms provided in the pre-nup that I drafted, as was appropriate given that she was now an Executive VP of MegaBank and in charge of operations in the entire state while I was a grossly underpaid public defender. She never said anything about the fidelity clause - she just signed.

I did have one issue to approach gingerly, but was necessary to deal with, before the wedding. Amber's friend Millie was kind of a wild child. While Millie seemed to like me - why wouldn't she since I saved her ass the first time that I met her - I was apprehensive about what she might plan for Amber at a bachelorette party since Millie was the maid of honor. So I invited her to lunch for a heart-to-heart. After some small talk, I got right to the point - I had to be discreet because every guy there was staring at us. As I said before, Millie was second only to Amber in the looks department of any woman I had had personal contact with.

"Millie, I really like you and I think that you're about the best friend that Amber could have, so I'm asking you to do something that I think is really in her best interests," I started out with a smile.

"I'd love to help any way that I can, Brad," she cooed.

"Well, I don't know if Amber has told you but I really, really prize fidelity. Even though I'm madly in love with Amber, a condition of that love is fidelity, and I've heard some stories about wile bachelorette parties in our fair city," I said with a serious face.

I could tell that Millie was a little uncomfortable. "Oh, really - what have you heard?"

"Oh things like some of the bride-to-be's friends getting her drunk and then either laid or gang-banged. I don't really know how much of it is true, but except for you I also don't really know Amber's friends that well. Since I do know and respect you, however, I was hoping that you could see to it that something like that doesn't happen to Amber," I continued, trying to make eye contact, although Millie's gaze occasionally wandered.

"Oh..." was about all she said at that point; I could tell that she was a little uncomfortable.

"The reason why this would really be helping Amber out is because I really do believe that she loves me and wants to marry me, and if I found out about her being with someone else at a bachelorette party - or anywhere else for that matter - there would be no wedding, I'd get an annulment, or get a divorce, depending upon when I found out."

After a few seconds delay, Millie got a forced smile on her face and said "You have nothing to worry about, Brad. I know that Amber knows where you're coming from and would never do anything like that, and as her maid of honor and best friend I will assure you that I will intervene if some of her friends try and get her too drunk to know what's going on."

"Thank you so much, Millie," I said with a big smile while squeezing her hand. Then we talked about nothing but fun, light things, and she even insisted on paying for the meal even though I had asked her to lunch. "I know you have lots of expenses associated with the wedding; let me take care of this, will you?" was her nice way of putting it.

I heard no "bad" reports about the bachelorette party - at least as they related to Amber. I'm sure that Millie reported our conversation to Amber word-for-word.

**************** 

Married life with Amber was - in a word - Fantabulous! We were compatible in every way, it seemed, although different enough and independent enough not to get clingy or boring. Our sex life was as good as it realistically could be. Like everyone else we could not sustain the passion of the first few months, but we both clearly enjoyed all aspects of our sexual relationship and had universally outstanding and frequent orgasms.

I also didn't mind that Amber made scads more money than I did, or that she owned most of the property that we shared. It simply was unimportant and she never held it over my head or in any way commented on it or let others.

After I was a public defender for three years I got a job as an assistant District Attorney for City X. I actually liked prosecuting the bad guys much more than defending them. As a PD I believed that only about 5% of the people I represented were innocent, and only another 10% were guilty of only a lesser crime than they were charged with. I still did the best that I could with the guilty ones, though I didn't like it.

I had only been an assistant DA for a little more than a year when big things happened. I had already obtained a reputation as a tough but fair prosecutor and a good trial attorney. The guy who was the DA assigned me all of the most difficult cases, but I gladly worked on them. One case was particularly pleasant because the scumbag was also being prosecuted in Suburb Y, one of the closest suburbs to City X, and Jen was an assistant DA there. We enjoyed re-connecting since I had only seen her a handful of times since graduation; including when she wore the pearl necklace that I had given her to my wedding, something that did not go unnoticed by Amber, although she took it in good humor. Of course I had never told Jen that Amber bought the necklace.

During that case I found out from Jen about the way that her DA ran her office. It was different from the way that my DA ran our office; much more ethically. I started wondering about some things, and came to the conclusion that my DA was corrupt, terminating some prosecutions under suspicious circumstances, and going all out against some people that we had no business prosecuting.

With the help of the Attorney General for our state I convened a grand jury, working with an assistant state prosecutor. Even though it was supposed to be done in secret the DA found out about it, and tried to fire me. I fought back hard - I took seriously my pledge after I had washed out of the SEALs to never again fail to succeed because of lack of mental toughness.

I was backed by the Mayor and Governor when I showed them the evidence that I had. The DA was placed on administrative leave. Some of the allegations were so serious that the public became skeptical of the entire office when they were revealed in a front page article in the city's major newspaper, so in an unusual collaboration by the Mayor and Governor I, the second most junior assistant DA, was appointed Interim DA.

There were six assistants with more seniority than I had; I got along well with all of them except for one. Three of them had no interest in the Interim job, two took it well after I had a heart-to-heart talk with them, and the one guy that I didn't get along with resigned. I immediately replaced him with a woman assistant DA from another county who wanted to work in the City.

There were several drawbacks to the Interim DA's job. The one that related to my relationship with Amber was that I had to work longer hours. I knew that she was unhappy about it, but I assured her that I would not run for DA when the election would occur in about fourteen months. The City charter did not require holding a special election, and the Mayor was happy to let me finish the suspended DA's term.




Mental Toughness Pt. 01



Amber and I talked about the future when I got the Interim DA's job. We agreed that as soon as the new DA was elected that we would start a family.

After I had been Interim DA for about six months on four separate nights, when I didn't have to work as long as I had thought that I would, when I got home Amber wasn't there. They happened to be consecutive Tuesday and Friday nights. I didn't ask her where she had been when she got home, and she didn't volunteer anything. We did not have sex those nights, but she was her normal warm self.

One of the nights I thought that I smelled marijuana on her clothing. We had had a talk before marriage about marijuana use since it could prejudice my position as a criminal attorney - and we talked about again when I became assistant DA, when it was even more important. Unlike some jurisdictions where even social use of marijuana is condoned, even if not allowed under state law, our state still had very serious penalties for even marijuana possession, and a low threshold of what amount in one's possession had the presumption of intent to sell. Smelling marijuana on her clothes really concerned me.

It was time for another mental toughness exercise. I was conflicted about doing it, but the next Tuesday in a borrowed car I waited outside Amber's office building; in an illegal parking space. One cop approached me but I showed her my DA badge and politely told her that I was on a stakeout. She smiled as she left and wished me good luck, probably wondering why the DA personally was on a stakeout but figuring that it was none of her business. 

The parking lot that Amber parked in was across the street from her building. About 5:30 I saw her leave her building walking with a guy. I immediately recognized him from social events sponsored by MegaBank. It was John Barnes, a Senior VP at MegaBank, about forty five years old, tall, good-looking, black hair with slight graying at the temples, and single. He had a bad reputation for womanizing.

When Amber's car left the parking lot I followed her. A red Mercedes 500 SL is not difficult to tail, even for a neophyte like me. She arrived at a large house in Suburb Y just as John was getting out of his car in the driveway. When Amber got out of her car she immediately walked up to him, and they went arm-in-arm into what was obviously his house.

I was shocked, appalled, and devastated. I was also confused, because aside from Amber being late four nights, and me smelling what I thought was marijuana once, I hadn't noticed any change in her. Certainly there had been no change in our satisfying - at least to me - sex life.

I stayed and watched as a Chinese carryout place delivered food to the house. Once it was dark and what would have been an hour after I thought that they would be finished with their meal, I snuck up to the house. I could see into the living room well enough through a curtain that was sloppily closed to see Amber sitting on a couch without her top on, her glorious tits on display, and a smile on her face. I couldn't actually see Barnes, but I did see his hand, on his bare arm, pass a joint to her while his other hand squeezed a tit. She smiled more broadly.

That was all that I needed. 

I went to Amber's car; despite my many warnings to the contrary she had left the door unlocked. With gloves on I popped the hood, detached three spark plug wires, and closed it back up. I knew that neither she or Barnes would have the wherewithal to fix that minor issue themselves, so they would need to call a mechanic or tow truck, and there would be a report somewhere about it.

I couldn't resist deflating one of Barnes' tires too. I didn't ruin it, I just let the air out using a simple air gauge. Childish, I know, but it made me feel a little better - very little.

I went back to my office and immediately started research. I had no intention of facing Amber that night, and certainly didn't want to sleep with her.

I found out much about Mr. Barnes in just three hours of research. I had access to data bases that MegaBank, or his previous employers, would not have had access to. I found out that he had had a previous arrest for marijuana possession in another state but since it was for a small amount and since the laws in that state were more lenient than in ours, he had just been given community service. I also found out that the neighbors on both sides of his house were suing him, in different suits, in different property disputes. I had a complete outline of how I was going to proceed by the time that I finally went home, and thankfully found Amber asleep.

I left the next morning before Amber got up, and left no explanatory note. When I got into the office I called Jen and asked her if there were patrol officers that she had a good relationship with who worked the area where Barnes' house was on Friday nights. She checked up on it and called me back.

"The two patrol officers who are assigned to that area Friday night I have worked with in the past. I am actually chummy with the female officer since I helped her with a personal legal matter. What's up?"

I explained to Jen what I wanted. She concluded that what I was asking her to do was completely legal and agreed to help. That same day, Wednesday, I filed an alienation of affection lawsuit against Barnes in Suburb Y but did not have it served. Until service there would be no easily located notice of it.

From a burner phone I called Barnes' neighbor who had the most acrimonious dispute with Barnes. I was to the point. "Mr. Smith, this is someone who has a beef with your neighbor John Barnes. I'd like to help you get a favorable settlement of your lawsuit against him."

"You've got my interest," Smith responded, "I hate that son-of-a-bitch."

"If I call you and give the go-ahead this Friday night, will you call the police and report noise and a marijuana smell coming from Barnes' house?"

"Can I get in trouble?" he asked.

"I assure you that you will not, although I am not at liberty to say why. One reason is, however, that there will be marijuana there."

"To clarify, so all I have to do is make one phone call?" Smith asked.

"Yes, and there is a 99% chance of a favorable settlement initiated by Barnes in the next few days," I replied.

"I look forward to your next call - I'm happy to help," Smith signed off.

Wednesday night was awkward at home. I'm not good at hiding my feelings, and Amber is very intuitive so she sensed that something was wrong. She didn't have to be a genius to have her suspicions confirmed when I declined sex, telling her that I had an upset stomach. I had never declined sex in our married life, nor had she more than a couple of times.

Thursday she called me at work and asked if we could have lunch together. I told her I was too busy. She asked if we could go out to dinner. I didn't want to completely screw up my plan so I said sure. I did a pretty good acting job that night at dinner, and I really could not refuse sex again that night without potentially blowing up my plan, so I fucked her doggy. While I was banging away, in my mind I was pretending that she was a whore who wanted it rough. I heard her sniffling as I fell asleep, facing away from her.

Friday was the big day. I followed her to Barnes' house again, and after an hour past the Chinese delivery guy's arrival I started driving home and on the way called Barnes' neighbor.

I had to return the car that I borrowed. I called Jen after I did and she told me that an arrest had been made at Barnes' house. I assumed that both Barnes and Amber had been arrested, so when I got home I was shocked to see Amber there. "Hi, Hon," was her apprehensive greeting, "did you get something to eat or do you want me to make you something?"

I wasn't able to put up with any more bullshit. I surreptitiously turned on my iPhone record app and asked, "What, not fucking Barnes tonight?"

She turned ashen. "What do you mean?"

"Well you've been fucking him the last few Tuesday and Friday nights - and God knows how much longer before then - so I wonder why you're not fucking him tonight?"

She collapsed in a chair, crestfallen. I had no sympathy as I continued "Admitting it is the only chance we have for reconciliation;" that was a lie.

She started sobbing. "I'm so sorry Brad. You're right, but I broke it off tonight; I didn't fuck him tonight and I won't ever again in the future - not him or anyone else besides you. I promise."

I turned off the record app. "I thought that you already made that promise before our parents and friends more than three years ago. I guess that you had your fingers crossed then, huh."

I had already packed the stuff that I needed and had gotten a room at an extended stay motel. As I picked up the suitcases and left she screamed "No, you can't go, it was just a stupid mistake; I love only you."

I didn't even turn to acknowledge her.

At first - and I emphasize "first"— things went exactly as planned. Saturday just before noon, Barnes called me on my cellphone. When I saw the caller ID I initiated the record function on my iPhone. In my state one-way consent is all that is necessary to legally record a phone call.

"Hi, I don't know if you remember me, but I met you a couple of times. This is John Barnes," he started out.

To "put him at ease" I said, "Yes, I know you - you're the asshole fucking my wife."

There was a pause. "Uh, well, I would like to talk with you about settling the alienation of affection suit you filed against me; I don't want it to go public."

"I didn't know that you were served yet," I said, knowing that he hadn't been but knowing that Jen, at my request, had shown it to him. If she did as planed she had made settling his pending lawsuits a condition of her considering whether or not to file charges against him, and let him out on bail over the weekend to think it over - normally he would have had to wait for a bail hearing on Monday.

"I wasn't, but someone brought it to my attention," he continued. After hemming and hawing a bit he asked "What would it take to settle this right now - before even service on me?"

"One hundred fifty thousand dollars and an affidavit admitting that you had sex with her; I would only use the affidavit in a court proceeding, not make it public. This is not a negotiation; either you take the deal or forget it; and once I serve you I'll make everything public," I said exhibiting a total no-nonsense approach.

After a delay he started to say "How about..." 

I interrupted him. "What fucking part of what I told you don't you understand? Call me back within the hour to accept it. If I haven't heard from you by then, no deal. If you accept I will email you an affidavit, and if you don't execute it in front of a notary and get it back to me by the end of the day, no deal. I will need the money by Wednesday." With that I hung up.

He called back to accept. I emailed him the affidavit admitting that he had sexual intercourse with Amber the three Tuesdays and the two Fridays (I omitted the last Friday because he confirmed what Amber had said - she broke it off then), he signed it in front of a Notary and had it messengered to me by 5:00 p. m. I emailed him the settlement agreement, told him to sign it and get it and a check for $150,000 to me by Wednesday and he was off the hook. "Then you can fuck her all that you want," I snarled as my final words to him.

On my burner cell I called the neighbor who had reported him. He confirmed that Barnes completely capitulated in the property dispute that he had with him, and that the neighbor on the other side of Barnes told him that Barnes did the same thing with him. He thanked me profusely.

I called Jen on my burner phone and she said that everything had gone according to plan. "The cops found enough marijuana in his house to justify a charge of possession with intent to distribute. When I visited him in the county lockup about two hours after his arrest he was like a drowning man looking for anything to cling to. He agreed that he would immediately settle his three lawsuits - his face paled when I showed him the one from you - to prove that he was a good citizen and accept 100 hours of community service if I would not prosecute. I thought that he was going to kiss my feet when I got him released so that he didn't have to spend the weekend in jail."

"I really owe you," I told Jen.

"Yes you do," she said with an evil laugh, then hung up.

Amber had called my cellphone about ten times on Saturday, each time leaving me a message tearfully begging me to call her. At least that's what I assume that all the messages were, because I only listened to the first and tenth ones, and deleted the others without listening. 

Monday morning just as she was leaving for work I had Amber served with the divorce papers, which included reference to split our combined assets 50-50 as provided for by her breach of the fidelity clause in the pre-nup. The process server told me that once he served her in the lobby of her condo that he had to help her to a chair, and after a minute or so she got up and walked back into the elevator to return to her condo, without opening the envelope.

Also on Monday I executed a new durable power of attorney, naming my brother as my agent for medical and financial matters, replacing Amber, and added a codicil to my will naming my brother and parents as the sole beneficiaries. I put the originals in my personal safe deposit box, and mailed a copy of each to my brother.

Wednesday I got the signed settlement and $150,000 check from Barnes. The settlement also included a provision that if I were seriously injured or died within the next ten years that the burden of proof beyond a reasonable doubt was on Barnes to show that he had nothing to do with it otherwise he would owe me or my estate $250,000. 

I was feeling so smug - haughty even. That feeling deserted me on Friday morning at 9:00 a. m. when I got a call at my office from family court judge Susan St. John's chambers requiring me to come to a hearing at 2:00 p.m.



Mental Toughness Pt. 02



I was feeling really smug. I had finessed a $150,000 settlement for an alienation of affection suit against Amber's paramour even though such suits are complete bullshit in our state, and hurt him even more where it counted since he had to settle property suits with both of his neighbors. Monday I had had Amber served with divorce papers, and apparently she was devastated. Yeah, I was really smug.

Friday morning the self-satisfied look left my face.

The call from Family Court Judge Susan St. John's chambers rattled me. I thought that I knew all that I needed to know about the relationship between the family court and the criminal court, where I practiced, and the general procedures before family law judges, but that did not include anticipating a call from a judge less than a week after a case was filed. I was acting as my own attorney and suddenly wasn't feeling so sure of myself, so I called up one of my former law school classmates who was practicing family law full time and asked her a few questions. Then I did some more research.

While not the practice everywhere, in my state the family law court is not only completely separate from the criminal court – all the judges, the courthouse, and even the rules are different – but so is the enforcement arm. The family law court deals with the Sheriff's Department. My office deals with the Metropolitan Police. The traditional charity softball game between those two law enforcement branches had to be canceled as of three years ago because the bad blood between them spilled out onto the softball diamond – that will give you an idea of their relationship.

Even though the old adage that "A lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client" has a lot of truth to it, I did not hire someone else because no one else would exhibit the brass balls or mental toughness that I was willing to exhibit – it would jeopardize his or her career, and they simply would have been unwilling to do what I knew needed to be done.

Amber was being represented by Compton, Gerald, and Casey, the biggest, most expensive old fart law firm in the state, not just City X. They were politically connected to almost every legislator on both sides of the isle, the Mayor, and the Governor. Despite Amber's wealth I knew that MegaBank money was behind this – I had a feeling that the president of MegaBank wanted this to go away and Compton, Gerald and Casey were on retainer by MegaBank.

When I entered the courtroom there sat forlorn, beautiful, tastefully dressed, Amber Miller (we both kept our pre-married last names when we wed). She tried, unsuccessfully, to make eye contact with me. The other side had three attorneys – what in the hell they needed three for, I don't know.

Their lead attorney was the head of the Family Law Department at the old fart firm, Jim Casey, the younger brother of one of the name partners. He walked over to me before the Judge arrived and said "Mr. Westin, so glad to meet you, I'm Jim Casey," extending his hand. I wanted him to know from the start what this case was going to be like.

"I know who you are Mr. Casey. If I were here as an attorney I would feel compelled by professional etiquette to shake your hand and engage you in a pleasant conversation. However, I am here as a wronged party in a divorce, cheated upon by my wife who now just wants to save some of her money. As such I decline any attempt at collegiality between us. This will be a street fight unless she capitulates, and I fight dirty." After that little speech I sat down. Casey was frozen in his place for a few seconds before shuffling back to his seat. I do believe that Amber heard me because I heard sniffles from the other side of the aisle, but I didn't look over to confirm.

I started out the hearing by speaking. "Mr. Westin, the request for an emergency hearing was made by Mrs. Miller, not by you, therefore you will have to let them go first," Judge Susan St. John chided me.

"Normally I would respect that, your honor, but I want something clear from the start. I don't want the fees she is paying to have three attorneys from the highest priced law firm in the city wasting her holdings so that when I get the 50% that I am entitled to that the amount has been greatly diminished. I want it understood from the start that it is her holdings as of Monday's date of service – not after she had retained Mr. Casey's law firm – that determines what the pie to be split is."

"Mr. Westin, you're getting way ahead of yourself here. I haven't even decided if there is any need for a divorce, so sit down and let Mr. Casey speak," the judge impatiently said.

I knew right then that the "fix" was in.

Casey made a heartfelt speech about how there was some misunderstanding and that Mrs. Miller had always been a good wife and economically supported her husband and was devastated by this turn of events, and that clearly the Court should not let the marriage dissolve without all attempts possible to save it, and that Mrs. Miller wanted the Court to order counselling and was willing to pay for it from her part of any division of assets that was made if the tragedy of divorce ever occurred.

The judge looked like she was ready to rule. "Wait," I impolitely yelled. "I haven't been heard."

"What is it, Mr. Westin," she impatiently said.

"I don't want counselling, I want out of this marriage, there is no one on earth that is going to convince me not to go through with this divorce; the only question is how much each of us gets. I don't agree to counseling so don't order it," words that an attorney that had to appear before her again would never use.

"I'm the one who makes decisions, not you Mr. Westin. I'm ordering six months of counseling Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, then we'll address the merits if there is any reason to at that time," she barked, and then she banged her gavel.

"Wait one second – I realize that this is a kangaroo court but I have something to say," I said jumping up.

"How dare you, Mr. Westin – do you want a contempt citation?" she snarled.

"If it keeps me out of counselling that would be great. One thing that you have not considered is that I am the DA of this fine city. I prosecute criminals at the behest of and for the protection of its citizens, including you, Mr. Casey, and my soon-to-be ex-wife. I can't make Tuesday and Thursday afternoon counseling sessions, and your own guidelines call for Saturday counseling for no more than two months, so you order is in violation of your own procedures," I got out before she interrupted.

"Those are only guidelines, and here more is necessary. You can work with your wife for a suitable schedule but she needs to agree to it," the judge snapped. "I'll hold you in contempt if you don't show up and have you arrested."

"Let there be no mistake. Now, talking as the DA, with the Court Reporter transcribing it, I hereby advise you and everyone else here or privy to the record that if any attorney in my office is arrested for failure to appear at a counseling session that isn't on a weekend or after two months of counseling have passed anyone associated with the arrest will themselves be arrested by the Metropolitan Police for obstruction of justice and my office will prosecute," I said in my most authoritative and snarky voice.

With that I collected my papers, got up, and turned to leave; as I did so I saw the absolutely shocked faces of everyone on the other side of the aisle. It looked like Casey was seconds away from a coronary; Amber was simply gap-jawed.

I had actually entered the aisle before Judge St. John yelled "Are you threatening me Mr. Westin?"

I replied, this time in a respectful tone, "No, I was just making the position of the Office of the DA in City X clear. Do I need to be here any longer?" 

I could see steam coming out of her ears. I just stood there as she glared at me for a good half minute before she said "I'll issue my order today and it WILL be obeyed," then slammed her gavel down again and stormed out as the startled bailiff announced "Court's adjourned."

Apparently Judge St. John didn't believe me. She sent out an order – a copy hand delivered to me at my office – that afternoon setting mandatory counselling sessions every Tuesday and Thursday for six months, starting just four days from then – at 3 p.m. in a suburb about ten miles from my office. I knew what was coming so I asked the Chief of Police to come to my office Monday morning.

Chief Matson was a grizzled veteran. He had seen it all – except what I was about to discuss with him. He and I had had a good relationship even when I was a Public Defender because I was always respectful toward him and valued his opinion. As DA he knew that I was a no nonsense law and order type who would back his cops unless there was real malfeasance.

I told him what I wanted, and who I wanted to help me.

"Are you sure about this Brad?" he asked after expelling a whistle. "I've never heard of anything like this before. You're poking a beehive."

"Chief, I probably have never told you but I washed out of the SEALs only a few days before the conclusion of the weeding out process because I wasn't mentally tough enough. I vowed that it would never happen again. This is just as important to me as getting into the SEALs was, and I'm not going to wash out again. Will you ask Hampton and Suritz to help me?"

Hampton and Suritz were two really tough cops, one in Vice, the other in Homicide. They got into an altercation with Sherriff's deputies at the annual charity softball game three years ago. It was that altercation that led to the game being permanently canceled.

Chief Matson stared at me a few seconds more, chuckled, stood up, shook my hand and said "OK – good luck!"

When I talked to Hampton and Suritz that afternoon they were about as enthusiastic as anyone I'd ever seen – you would have thought that I had just given them an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii rather than asking them for their help in arresting people in the law enforcement community.

After I didn't show up at the mandatory counselling session on Tuesday the counselor called me. I told her that I had made it clear that I was never showing up to a weekday counseling session. She called again when I didn't show Thursday and I asked her what part of our last conversation she didn't understand. She said that she would report it to the Court.

From my little mole in the Family Court I found, as expected, that by 9 a. m. on Friday Judge St. John had ordered my arrest by the Sheriff's Department but that they would wait until just before the end of the day to arrest me so that I'd have to spend the weekend in jail. I pre-empted them and showed up at the Sheriff's office at noon, told him that I was leaving for the weekend in ten minutes so if he had anything to say to me he had to say it now. 

The Sheriff handed me the arrest order from Judge St. John and had a nearby deputy arrest me. I advised the deputy that if he did he was obstructing justice and he would be arrested by the police. He went ahead anyway. 

A friend, who was a criminal attorney, was waiting right there. He made a call as soon as I was arrested and over the phone gave the party at the other end of the line the name of the deputy sheriff who had arrested me. Within an hour after my arrest was processed my friend got me released on my own recognizance. 

As I was about to leave the Sheriff's Office, Hampton and Suritz arrived with an arrest warrant for the Deputy and big smiles on their faces as they chuckled "Good afternoon, Mr. D. A." I just smiled back. I didn't stay around. I could hear the yelling even after I reached the sidewalk and just chortled to myself, thinking that that was only mild compared to what would occur when they arrested Judge St. John.

Friday at 6:00 p. m. I got a frantic call from the Mayor himself. "Brad, what in the hell is going on? You had a deputy sheriff and a family court judge arrested? Are you insane?"

"No, Mr. Mayor. They were obstructing justice and had been specifically warned," I replied. 

He yelled, "I don't give a shit. Get them out of jail NOW – they're not spending the weekend in detention."

"As you wish Mr. Mayor, but the arrest warrant stands, and I do intend to prosecute them," I firmly replied.

He was silent for a few seconds. "We'll talk about the future – just get them out now."

I personally went to the jail and had the deputy and Judge St. John released. As the judge was being processed out she yelled at me – I had my trusty recording app on again – "You'll pay for this you asshole Westin. You'll never get your divorce from me."

I cut the app off, held up my iPhone and said – with the most sarcasm that I could muster – "You're right your honor. You'll recuse yourself or the Chief Judge of your little kangaroo court will do it for you."

She stormed out, as angry and anyone I had ever seen in my life.

There must have been numerous phone calls over the weekend because Monday morning I got a call from the Chief Judge of the criminal court – where I and my assistants had to appear all of the time – asking me to come see him. After some initial pleasantries he led me into his office.

"Brad, I need to talk with you off the record about something."

"Sorry Your Honor but I know what it's about and I'm afraid that I cannot talk with you off the record," I respectfully replied.

"You're going to get your balls in a meat grinder son, and I don't want to see that happen. You're a good DA and I like you personally, but after the election you'll be out of a job unless you change your attitude about the Family Court."

"I'd rather have my balls ground up than give in. I'm in the right. The fix was in, and now it won't be. I genuinely appreciate your advice, but I've taken my stand," I calmly replied.

He got a wistful smile on his face. "I hope that you like your next job," he said with that smile still on his face as he shook my hand.

"Thank you, Your Honor; I will be sure to," I replied and then exited. I could see him shaking his head in the reflection off of a glass panel at the entrance to his chambers.

Two days later I got a call for another 2:00 p. m. hearing at Family Court. Amber was there with a different attorney, and a different judge, Judge Samuel O'Connor. The attorney didn't try to talk to me. Judge O'Connor started right in.

"Judge St. John has recused herself and I have been assigned this case. I have vacated her counselling order and the Contempt citation against Mr. Westin. The purpose of this hearing is to determine a mutually agreeable schedule for marriage counselling for the parties. Mr. Westin, what day is it convenient for you to appear once a week for the next two months?"

"Your honor I believe that counseling is a waste of time and I object to any counseling at all," I replied in the respectful tone that I always use in criminal court. 

"I understand, Mr. Westin. However, I have seen many couples with a far worse situation than the one set forth in your petition work things out and end up happily married. I'm not willing to jettison this marriage until I get some feedback from a professional counselor. So, I ask again, when is convenient?"

"Saturday mornings anywhere in the city, not the suburbs, paid for by Mrs. Miller from her assets after division," I replied.

"Mrs. Miller, is that acceptable to you?"

Amber stood, and with a halting voice replied "Yes, your honor."

"Good; this Saturday, then. Mrs. Miller have the counselor that you select call Mr. Westin as soon as possible to give him the time and place. Mr. Westin, your full cooperation is required. IF I receive a report from the counselor that you are uncooperative I can levy sanctions including making a different split of assets than would otherwise be called for even if I do grant a divorce. Understood?"

"Yes Your Honor," I replied with a shoulder shrug.

"Unless there is something else, Court is adjourned," O'Connor concluded. Seeing no reaction from anyone else he hit his gavel, got up and left.

Amber tried to come up to me saying something about how sorry she was about the arrest but that she just got some bad advice from the bank's attorneys, but I just said over my shoulder "See you Saturday." When I got back to my office I dropped the charges against the deputy and Judge St. John and had my assistant call them to notify them of that fact. I had won the pissing contest – no reason not to be gracious now.

I also had a fifth of single malt Scotch delivered to each of Hampton and Suritz with a thank you note.

The first counselling session was miserably predictable. Amber showed up dressed to kill – like I didn't already know that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen live. I wasn't divorcing her for her looks.

The counselor's name was Judith Fell. She had a PhD certificate from an Ivy League school on her wall, and she had an attitude, as was apparent from her conversation before we got started. At least she was professional once we did.

"Before getting down to business, do either of you have any questions?" she asked.

"I do, Dr. Fell," I said. "How can you be objective if Amber has selected and is paying you – or isn't objectivity important?"

"Mrs. Miller may be paying me, but my obligation is to the Court, to whom my report is directed. The Court requires me to be objective; this is not an adversarial proceeding. It has reconciliation as its goal, not to identify a winner or loser," she replied, not sounding the least bit perturbed. "Any other questions, Mr. Westin?"

"Yes, Dr. Fell; what is the point of this proceeding? I advised Amber since the day that we met how important fidelity was to me, yet she had sex at least five times with another man. I also told her that as an attorney, and later DA, that it would reflect very badly on me if she used marijuana, yet she used it the times that she had sex with another man. I don't want to be married to a cheat and druggy, and I won't be," I coolly said.

"Mr. Westin – may I call you Brad?"

"No; 'Mr. Westin will do just fine," I replied.

"Very well; Mr. Westin, we need to explore why Amber did what she did and see what you both can do to help you move past it. We'll explore what made you a happy couple, and how you can get back to that situation," she calmly responded.

"What if I don't care why she did what she did, and what if I don't care to get past it?" I asked.

"It's for your own good that you do get past it, Mr. Westin, and if you still have feelings for Mrs. Miller the best thing for you personally would be to reconcile."

I made some more statements, she articulated some more happy-horseshit platitudes, and then she gave Amber the floor to talk.

Amber's soliloquy was totally foreseeable. She talked about the good times that we had had, that she felt lonely when I started having to work so hard, how her first night at Barnes' house she did not expect him to come on to her, that she had had too much to drink and marijuana, that she is appalled by her own weakness, that she loves me and only me, how she wants to have my children, and that she would never cheat again if I gave her a chance to make it up to me. It took at least half an hour.

My response was short and sweet. "She just wants to save the penalty under the pre-nup for her breaking – actually obliterating – the fidelity clause. I don't want her as my wife, period. I want out; it's as simple as that."

The counselor tried to draw me out. Why was this one mistake so important, why I didn't have any forgiveness, hadn't I loved her, blah, blah, blah. My responses were terse and unyielding. By the end of the hour and fifteen minute consultation Amber and the counselor had gotten nothing from me. The counselor gave us some things to think about for the next time – I barely listened.




Mental Toughness Pt. 02



As we left the counselor's office Amber chased me down and grabbed me. "Brad – I didn't realize that you hated me so much and thought as poorly of me as you do. It's killing me. I can't stand any more of your barbs. If you will meet me for dinner Thursday before the next session and just listen to me, unless the next session is different I'll agree to the divorce on your terms."

It was hard to turn that down. "What time and where?" I asked.

"Could you pick me up at our condo at 6:00 and we'll..." she started. I cut her off.

"Where do you want to MEET for dinner – I'm not going to YOUR condo."

She looked crestfallen. "Let's meet at Roxy's at 6:30; I'll make reservations."

"See you then," I replied, turned and left.

Wednesday afternoon at work I got a call from Amber. Since she knew about my apprehension in taking her calls when she called she told my secretary that it was only about the schedule for Thursday night. I opened with a simple "Hello."

"Hi, Brad; thanks for taking my call. I just left the doctor's office – I sprained my ankle pretty badly. Could we please eat at our – I mean my – condo on Thursday. I'll have Ridgwell's cater it since I can't stand up to cook on my sore ankle, and I'll order their crab cakes for you," she said.

I saw manipulation there; she knew that Ridgwell's crab cakes were about my favorite food in the whole world. "I don't know, Amber," I started to say. She cut me off.

"Brad, this is NOT one of your times to demonstrate enough mental toughness to get you through SEAL qualifying;" I guess that she had learned what buttons to push when it came to me. "It is just a simple human accommodation to someone you used to love. I've told the doctor's office that they can release my medical records to you, so give them a call if you don't believe me. Dr. Graham, xxx-555-5555," she continued with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"If you story checks out, when should I come over?" I asked after a long pause.

"Six thirty, the same time we would have met at Roxy's," she replied now with a lilt in her voice.

"OK, see you then," I hesitantly replied.

I did call the doctor's office; the receptionist seemed legitimate and after checking her records confirmed that Amber had sprained her ankle.

I got to Amber's condo right on time on Thursday. I could hear her hobbling toward the door when I knocked.

"Why did you knock, Brad?" she asked. When she saw the perturbed look on my face she immediately changed the subject, "Thanks for coming, Brad. Did you see the caterer's van?"

"I saw it pull up just as I was getting on the elevator. They should be here shortly," I replied. "Why don't you go sit down and I'll get them and lead them to where the food should be placed. They're not going to stay around after they deliver the food, though, are they?

"Thanks, Brad; no, they're just bringing the food and setting it on the table, then they'll be gone," she said as she hobbled over to the dining room table, which was set with her finest crystal and china.

The caterers served all courses, except desert, while we sat at the table, then left. The appetizer was fabulous as were the crab cakes and the fresh vegetables served with them. Amber tried to be chatty during the meal and I tried to be polite. We talked about non-controversial current events. At one point Amber asked me to get another bottle of wine – I wasn't sure that she would be able to talk about the divorce settlement if she drank much more – but I got up from the table and got it for her anyway. It took me a couple of minutes to find it since her instruction about where it was wasn't particularly accurate. It turned out that she did not drink much of the second bottle.

After dinner we picked up our wine glasses and decided to sit in the living room. "Could you help me up, Brad; I'm sorry to do this to you but my ankle got stiff during dinner."

I knew what she was doing, but I just couldn't be an ass right now because I was expecting her to capitulate to the division of assets. The feel of her soft, large, breast against my chest was disconcerting, however. When we sat down she made sure to give me a clear view up her dress since her pantiless pussy never failed to get me excited. I moved seats so that I no longer had an unobstructed view.

"Part of the deal, Brad, is that I tell you what happened, and then we'll talk about division of assets; but I would be remiss if I didn't tell you again how sorry that I am, and how much I love you."

I sat as stone-faced as I could. It looked like she had carefully rehearsed what she had to say and was going to say it.

"I was tricked into sex with Barnes the first time; I didn't intend to smoke the marijuana but I was inhaling what he was smoking so I thought 'what the heck.' After we had sex the first time I was mortified, but then I looked on it as one last fling before we had kids. Stupid, self-centered, and cheap, I know – I'm not making excuses just telling you like it is. I didn't have any less passion for you despite your late hours, and the few times that I had sex with Barnes didn't disturb my affection for you in the slightest. Also, I gave you whatever you wanted from me sexually," she continued, obviously on a roll in delivering her well-prepared speech.

While the last statements were true, that wasn't the issue for me.

Funny thing, though; as she kept talking I started to feel weird. At one point she looked me in the eye and said "Brad, are you feeling all right? You don't look good. You're not having an allergic reaction to the lobster bisque, are you?"

The last thing that I remember is Amber hobbling over to me and holding my face. I remember seeing her mouth moving and some sound, but not what she was saying. Then things went blank.

I seemed to go in and out of consciousness. At one point I could swear that something or someone was stroking my cock. At another point I thought that I heard Millie's distinctive voice, and Amber answering her. At another point I swear that I heard Millie say "Let me suck it this time and see if I can get a bigger load than you did," and Amber laughingly replying "Bitch, you are really competitive aren't you?"

I woke up in the hospital. When I asked the nurse who walked into my room shortly after I woke up why I was there and how long I had been there she said "It's Sunday morning. You got here Friday night and were here all day Saturday. Your wife has been here most of the time; she should be back shortly."

That made no sense. "Has someone called my brother? He has my medical power of attorney."

"No – we assumed that your wife had it," she replied.

"You are not to take any directions from my wife. If you feel that I'm not capable of making my own decisions then call my brother. I'll give you his phone number," I earnestly said while holding her wrist.

"I'll get the head nurse," she politely answered.

When she left the room I was really confused. I knew that I had had dinner with Amber on Thursday, yet I wasn't admitted to the hospital until Friday night, and now that I was awake I felt fine physically – except for cobwebs in my head and a sore cock, that is. I was still batting things back-and-forth in my mind when Amber walked in – without a limp.

"Brad, Darling," she exclaimed as she scurried over to me and held my hand. "I was so worried about you; I know that you'll be all right now, and we'll continue our reconciliation."

That pushed some of the cobwebs out of my head. "What reconciliation; we were supposed to talk about the division of assets; we're not reconciling."

"But Brad – why did you make love to me if we weren't reconciling, and why did you call into your office on Friday morning and tell them that you were spending the day and night with me?" she asked, seemingly with a genuine tone, and with an indication that she was hurt by my statement.

Over the next two hours, Amber regaled me with a very strange tale that did not mesh at all with my fuzzy memory. Supposedly I had asked her to have her IUD removed early in the week, that we had a nice talk Thursday night, that we had sex three times by Friday morning, that I called my office and told them that I was taking the day off, that I had some sort of episode Friday night, and that an ambulance brought me to the hospital then and that she had been with me since, sleeping in my room and only leaving to get food, to go to the bathroom, and to call friends and family about my condition.

She concluded with "Of course I called the counselor and told her that we would miss our session Saturday morning, but she is available for a makeup session if necessary or we could just go to see her next Saturday."

"Was Millie ever there?" I asked.

That seemed to catch her off guard, but only for a second. "She got there shortly before the ambulance came because I called her first when you had your episode, because she's a nurse."

"Not before then?" I skeptically asked.

"No Darling; it was just you and me and it was wonderful!" she almost cooed.

To say that I was suspicious would be the understatement of the year. I decided not to challenge her until the cobwebs left my head.

I begged her for some time by myself. "Will you be coming back to the condo after you're released?" she timidly inquired.

"We'll see," was my response, although I wanted to say "Fuck NO;" I just wanted a clear head first.

Within an hour after Amber left I was feeling quite a bit better, and against the advice of my doctor I got up and walked around the hallways. I didn't feel dizzy, just fuzzy. After lunch, some more walking around, and after jotting down notes whenever I remembered something and then assigning how sure I was of the memory a number on a scale of one to ten, by six p. m. I was ready to leave.

The nurses told me that Amber had called several times about when she should come back to either visit or pick me up – I kept stalling them. Finally at six o'clock– again against the advice of my doctor – I checked out, called up a friend of mine and had him drive me to Amber's condo to pick up my car from the lot across the street. Then I drove to my apartment.

Amber started calling my cell phone soon after I got back to my apartment – apparently the hospital told her that I had checked out – and even came to my motel room door about 10 p.m. I don't know how she found out where I lived – maybe by using a P. I. that MegaBank had on retainer. I never answered the phone or door.

Although I wasn't 100%, I went into work Monday morning. The first thing that I did was to check with my secretary to see if I had, in fact, called her Friday saying that I was taking the day off.

"Yes, you sure did, Brad," she replied.

"How did I sound?" I asked next.

"You sounded a little disconnected. I asked you a question about your schedule and the answer you gave wasn't responsive – and you hurried off, something you had never done before when we talked on the phone," she replied with a perplexed look.

"Was the call recorded like most calls to my phone are?" I continued.

"Why yes, I think that it was. That's another thing; you called your phone, not my direct line like you have in the past when informing me that you won't be in the office. Since it was to your line it should be recorded according to our standard procedure," she responded.

"Have the Tech people pull it up and make me a copy, and tell them that they must keep and preserve the original, and handle it just like they would evidence," I told her.

"Right away, Brad," she replied, while reaching for the phone and presumably dialing Tech.

When I listened to the recording I recognized my voice but there was something funny about it; real funny. I sent it to the police acoustic lab technicians and asked them to analyze it and to tell me what they thought about it. I didn't want to prejudice their outlook by telling them what I suspected.

I talked to Amber once that week. I played it cool. I did not commit to anything except the next meeting with the counselor, and I certainly did not tell her about my suspicions. 

At the counseling session on Saturday, Amber had a surprise. After relating her story – which I was certain was a fabrication and that I had no memory loss – about us making love Thursday and Friday, she had an announcement. "Since Brad had asked me to have my IUD removed and it was my fertile time, and since Brad did such a good job of making love to me, I found out this morning before coming here that I'm pregnant," she related with an actual glow about her.

I didn't hear what Dr. Fell, the counselor, had to say I was in so much shock. When I regained my composure I burst Amber's bubble.

"Wait; I have a lot of questions about that bullshit story," I started out. The counselor tried to interrupt but I held up my hand and said "Let me finish!"

Amber looked scared; Dr. Fell looked resigned.

"There is no way that if we had sex that Thursday night, just nine days ago, that you would be able to tell this soon that you were pregnant," I scoffed.

"That's not true," Amber said, crossing her arms and stomping her right foot. "My OB/GYN said that her test could detect very small amounts of hCG, the hormone that indicates pregnancy, as little as 5 mIU/L. With her very sensitive test it is possible to test positive for pregnancy as early as seven days past ovulation."

I started to protest; Dr. Fell held up her hand and said "Let's research that right now Brad." She got on her computer, stroked keys for three or four minutes, then called me over to her computer screen. "It looks like she's right," the counselor said, "it is possible to test that early.

"How do you know that it's mine?" I snarled.

"Because I had my IUD in the few times that I had sex with Barnes, and you're the only two people I've had sex with since we've been married, that's why," she said while sniffling.

"It's all bullshit," I yelled. "I have to leave," I said, turning to Dr. Fell. "I need to do some investigating before these counselling sessions could possibly be worthwhile. How early can she have an in vivo paternity test?"

Still sitting at her computer Dr. Fell stroked the keys for another three or four minutes. "Ten to twelve weeks after conception," she replied, and then turning to me and pointing to the computer screen asked "Want to see?"

I looked at her screen; that's what the authoritative article that she brought up said. In the background Amber sniffled, "That's what my OB/GYN said too."

"I'll be filing a motion in court Monday to suspend these sessions until an investigation, including a paternity test, is complete," I said as I stood up. "I hope that you understand Dr. Fell.

She nodded; Amber sobbed; I left.

After I filed my motion on Monday, family court Judge O'Connor held a hearing the Friday of the next week. At the hearing, over Amber's attorney's protests, he granted my motion and allowed various subpoenas to be issued for Amber's medical records and related matters.

Over the next few weeks I collected a great deal of evidence. Among (but not all of) the things that I found out were:

-The head of the police's audio lab would testify that my voice on the call to my office telling them that I was taking the fateful Friday off was a recorded message that had been spliced together from a number of different conversations.

--The alleged Dr. Graham's number was a burner phone that one of Amber's friends owned. She had never sprained her ankle.

-Millie had purchased artificial insemination devices with her credit card two days before the fateful Thursday, and that same week several controlled medications were missing from the clinic that she worked at.

-Amber had had her IUD removed right after the first Saturday session with Dr. Fell, the day that I agreed to have dinner with her Thursday night, not at the beginning of the next week as she had told me and Dr. Fell.

-The late night nurse at the hospital that I was admitted to testified in a deposition that she saw Amber sucking and stroking my cock very late both Friday and Saturday nights (actually early in the next morning) and that another woman, who fit Millie's description was in the room. She didn't intervene because she knew Amber was my wife and Amber had not shown anything but love for me while I was hospitalized.

Amber had a paternity test done eleven weeks after conception. As soon as the paternity test was done, I was ready to pounce. Having found out what I had I wasn't really surprised that I was the sperm donor.

Amber tried repeatedly to engage me in conversation about the baby in her belly, and to influence the Court as to how that changed everything. She even called my parents and her parents and asked them to intervene, crying to them that the baby needed a father. The problem for her was that the fidelity clause in the pre-nup had no exception if there was a child, and that I didn't consider myself a potential father but just a sperm donor.

A week after the paternity test came back I had a one-on-one meeting with Amber's attorney. I told him that I could prove that Amber and her nurse friend Millie had drugged me the Thursday night that I had dinner at the condo, and that they had extracted sperm from me several times Thursday and Friday, and continuing even on Saturday night at the hospital. Each time Millie artificially inseminated Amber, and that one of the attempts took resulting in the pregnancy. I was out of it the entire time – except for the snippets of conversation I heard which I was by then certain enough of that I could testify to them – and the call to my office was a spliced-together recording.

I concluded my discussion with her attorney by telling him that I was prepared to turn the case over to a special prosecutor – since my office couldn't handle it because I was involved – and would press for criminal prosecution if I was able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the scenario I knew was true. Of course in family law court all that I had to do was prove it by a preponderance of the evidence, a much lower standard, and Amber would lose big-time, and get sanctioned besides.

By the time that I was done, her attorney "had religion."

A week later, Amber settled on the terms that I originally sought – a 50-50 split of our combined assets (not counting the $150,000 from Barnes) as of the day that I filed for divorce. Of course there was no child support, and I did not seek alimony. The only requirement that she insisted upon was that I provide her an updated address and cell phone number within a week of any move or phone change in case some issues came up with the baby, which I interpreted to mean health issues. The judge would have ordered it even if I had refused, so I agreed.

The first thing that I did when my divorce was Final, nineteen weeks after I had filed, was to call up Jen and ask her to celebrate with me.

"So you think that now that you're free that I'll just hop back into the sack with you?" she asked over the phone. Her voice sounded impish, not annoyed, but I couldn't be sure.

"No, this is just to thank you for your help with Barnes," I sheepishly replied.

"You think that just taking me to dinner and dancing will be sufficient payback?" she snickered.

"No, but it's a start," I replied.

"What time are you picking me up at my house, and how expensive is the restaurant that we're going to?" she inquired, now with a playful tone.

"Six thirty Saturday night, and the most expensive restaurant in the area that doesn't serve nouvelle cuisine," I chuckled.

************* 

After the next election the new DA fired me. I knew it was coming ever since the day that I had Judge St. John arrested. It didn't bother me. I had over a million dollars in the bank or stock market, and I was looking to eventually practice law in the civil arena.




Mental Toughness Pt. 02



I got appointed a consultant by the DA in the county that Jen was an assistant DA in, to be paid $1 per month, but with expenses. I helped Jen prepare for and try several high profile cases. While I helped her in the courtroom I also helped her relax after hours by fucking her brains out every chance that I got – and since we were living together and had the same work hours that was often.

Amber's baby was a little girl who she named Rebecca – also my mother's name – Miller-Westin. Not too obvious, huh? Of course since she was Amber's baby she is – and everyone who has seen her or even photos of her says it, including Jen, not just me – the most beautiful little girl imaginable. 

I was surprised at how the baby's birth affected me. It really shook me up for several weeks; it was only because I kept reminding myself "Remain mentally tough," that I didn't have some sort of an episode, or go to see the baby.

Jen mails me photos of little Rebecca, who she calls "Becca," every month and sends some to my iPhone even more often; that wasn't my intent when I agreed in the divorce settlement to provide my updated address, but I wasn't clear enough in the language so I can't stop it. I try not to look at them but I do; then I'm usually successful in destroying them, though not always. I do NOT want to meet Becca because it would be dangerous psychologically to be around her and especially Amber. I love Jen now and I want her to be the center of my life.

Even though Jen and I married the photos kept and keep coming. My parents have seen their granddaughter on numerous occasions since Amber is involving them in her life, and they are appalled that I don't want any part of her life. If Amber wasn't around I would like to be part of Becca's life, but with Amber there the hurt and temptation both would be too much to bear, and it would really badly screw me up.

Now that Becca can talk Amber is having her leave messages on my cellphone. "Hi, da-da I lub yous," was the latest one. I don't know whether Amber thinks that she can get me back, or if she's just trying to fuck up my mind. If it is the latter, she is succeeding.

After we got married Jen and I moved fifteen hundred miles away from City X, to a state that has reciprocity with the state we were in the DA's office in. I never told Jen my most compelling reason for the move – I did not want to be constantly tempted to go see Becca and Amber. Separating from them got harder as time passed, not easier. 

I started to question whether divorcing Amber and not giving her another chance was mental toughness or stupidity, considering how difficult it was to get over her. Also the fact that she had manipulated me to get a baby with me I started to see more as a desperate ploy on her part to save the marriage rather than something evil. I also could not deny that the world was a better place with little Becca in it.

I think back upon the words of Judge O'Connor: "I have seen many couples with a far worse situation than the one set forth in your petition work things out and end up happily married." As soon as I purge my mind of his words I hear Dr. Fell: "It's for your own good that you do get past it, Mr. Westin, and if you still have feelings for Mrs. Miller the best thing for you personally would be to reconcile."

Sometimes when I make love to Jen I think of Amber; that's when I, sadly, have my most explosive orgasms. While outwardly I'm fine, inwardly I constantly question whether jettisoning my marriage to Amber was a demonstration of mental toughness, or stupidity.

Now Jen and I practice civil law in a small firm that we joined and are full partners in. We do the trial work for the firm. Jen is pregnant with our first child – I hope that there will be at least two more.

No one knows about the photo of Amber holding our daughter that I keep in my wallet. I know that I'm not exhibiting SEAL mental toughness by keeping it – but I've come to terms with that weakness. As long as I physically stay away from Amber and Becca and stay close to Jen I believe that I'll be OK, if not fine.