64 comments/ 28990 views/ 13 favorites Sentence By: edrider73 Many thanks to my editor, LovelyAnon, not only for fixing mistakes, but for challenging the writer to do better. ***** They had managed the strain to their marriage for over a year. It was not until the week before Sterling had to report that the tension resulted in an outbreak of emotions between Hillary and him. Monday morning after Hillary came home from taking the kids to school, she walked quickly into the kitchen, where Sterling was lingering over breakfast, grabbed the coffee pot, refilled his cup, poured one for herself and sat down opposite him. "Aren't you going to have anything?" he asked. "Not yet," she said . "Don't stop eating, but I need to say some things that you need to hear. I'm sure you've already thought about them, but you've pushed them out of your mind. I wish I could stick my head in the sand, but protecting you is more important to me. So I'm dealing with what's going to happen to you next week." "I know what's going to happen to me next week," he said. "Everybody knows." "Please don't say anything until I've finished," she said impatiently. "I've been working for weeks on how to tell you this, and you're not going to distract or divert me. Just listen." He was not put off by her abrupt manner. That was her personality, and part of what drew them together. Sterling met Hillary when he went to work for the company. He was the new young hotshot, but she was even hotter because she was just a year older and already head of IT. He rose through the ranks quickly and within a year was her assistant. They were a terrific team, and with him backing her up, her star shone even brighter. Their bosses loved them both. They worked well together because they were similar in many ways. The only challenges for each were social skills. Because they were always three steps ahead of everyone else, they understood each other, but their words sometimes seemed harsh and abrupt to those who reported to them. Once their subordinates got used to this, they realized that not only were neither of them mean, but they watched over their staff's best interests as well as those of the stockholders. Hillary didn't care that she was smarter than he was. It hardly ever came up - only when Sterling made a rare error or when he bumped up against something that he spent long hours on without a resolution. At such times, Hillary would step in and take care of everything in what seemed like a split second. He was always appreciative and never resented her. She tried to downplay her superiority because she didn't want to embarrass him. Eventually, she relaxed when she saw that he wasn't threatened by the fact that she could run circles around him like he ran circles around everyone else in IT. Once their emotional involvement began, they learned to disguise their feelings toward each other while at work. Sometimes for fun, they'd use their new skill at deception on each other for things like birthday surprises . Once night at a bar, Hillary saw that Sterling was troubled and asked him what the problem was. He tried to hid it, but she eventually got it out of him. He admitted that he wanted to marry her, but if he did, he would have to quit the best job he ever had and stay home with their kids, and he felt selfish for even thinking that way. Hillary resigned the next morning after promising their bosses she'd come in any time there was a problem Sterling couldn't handle. There never was. Sterling was happy in her former job, and she was happy staying at home with the kids. Everything in their lives was mostly positive until the day last year when Sterling had been called into the president's office and told he was being placed on paid leave for a few weeks. He wasn't given an explanation, and when he got back to his office, his desktop and the laptop he took home when he was working on deadline were missing. That's all he found out except from rumors relayed by his staff until he was asked to come in a month later. His boss said there were some problems with missing money and asked him if he would work with some FBI agents and lawyers from the IRS. He said sure and spent the next three days in the Federal Building answering questions. Though the interrogators tried to hide what was behind their questions, he soon figured it out. Money was being transferred from company accounts into offshore accounts on a regular basis, and although the hacker doing it was a computer genius, he had entered one wrong number a couple of months ago, and that had alerted the company computer's security system. Otherwise, the thefts would still be undiscovered. Sterling was being questioned because the FBI tracked the dealings back to his computers. None of the missing money was found in any of his or Hillary's bank accounts, and so far the FBI hadn't tracked down the offshore accounts. After cooperating with the Feds, he was told to take some more paid leave, and a few weeks later, he was indicted. Company executives told him that the company didn't want to prosecute him, because nobody there believed he had done it, but the company lawyers said that if they didn't assume a neutral position on the federal prosecution, the stockholders could sue and cause major problems. As for the Feds, they were certain he was guilty and they would eventually trace the foreign accounts and connect him to the missing money. Hillary took charge of the defense team. She researched lawyers and came up with a champ. He pressed hard and forced the government's hand before it was ready. The only thing the Feds had was a strange bit of evidence: The day before Sterling had been placed on leave and had his computers confiscated, there had been a $3 million transfer. By that time the government had been monitoring the company's computers for more than a month and had what it thought was a fool-proof system to stop further transfers. They thought wrong, because the money disappeared anyway. That's when they decided that they needed to get Sterling out of his office and take both his computers. Once they did that, there were no more attempts at stealing money. That little detail was what got the judge to find him guilty, even though his sentence was reduced to almost nothing: just two years in minimum security. The company's executives each called and explained why they couldn't show up for the trial, but his entire department was there the first day. Hillary was sitting with them, and he saw her comfort his assistant, Kali, when she burst into tears. Many of them came back on other days during the two weeks of the trial and sat with Hillary. Kali was there often, and whenever he looked back during a break, he saw her and Hillary deep in conversation. After the trial, Hillary and the lawyer had gone on the attack to reduce the light sentence to something even lighter. At the same time, his lawyer was launching one appeal after another. One day while he was waiting alone in court, the bailiff, Jake, had told him his sentence had been reduced. "Your wife is some kind of woman," Jake had said, "This judge never reduces sentences, but my source who was in the meeting this morning told me your wife was like a bulldog who wouldn't let go. She reminded them that you cooperated with all their interrogation and never asked for a lawyer, and you were ready to take a lie detector test until the indictment came down and your lawyer wouldn't let you. She said you even agreed to be tried before a judge and testified, letting the prosecution try to cut you up in pieces during cross-examination. "She got them doubting themselves and kept slicing and whittling until she got you down to two months and 23 days exactly. After your wife left, the judge and the Fed lawyers were asking each other what had just happened? They weren't happy. What kind of a sentence is two months and 23 days? I don't think anybody has ever gotten two months and 23 days." Hillary and his lawyer got him bail after the conviction, although the government tried to argue he was a flight risk and wanted to put an ankle bracelet on him. When all the appeals were exhausted, the date was set for Sterling to report to prison. "All right," said Sterling, taking a sip of coffee. "I know you mean well. What have you been working on." "I've been talking to Jake a lot," said Hillary, "and taking him to lunch whenever I could. The other day, when I told you I had to meet someone for dinner to talk about your case, I was having dinner with him." "Jake?" he said. "You mean the bailiff?" "That's who I'm talking about," she said. "He's very smart, and he's been kicking around cops, courts and corrections for a long time. He had the information and contacts I needed." "He's a pretty good looking guy, too," said Sterling, staring into the distance and talking without much emotion. "That's irrelevant," said Hillary. "What's important is that he likes you and he likes me. I think I persuaded him that you're innocent, and he's helping me." "What does he want from you in return?" asked Sterling. "Nothing for him," Hillary said. "You mean there's no money involved and no favors?" he said. "I don't believe you." "I didn't say that," she said. "Of course, it's going to take money. All I said is that it will go to other people, not him." "How do you know?" he said. "Because he won't even touch the money," she said. "I told you he's only given me information and contacts. I'm doing everything on my own." "How much money is it?" "Who cares?" she said. "We've got plenty of money for the kids' college and the rest of our lives, and we're going to make a lot more when I clear you." "How do you know the person you're giving money to isn't splitting it with Jake?" he said. "I don't know, and I don't care about any of that," she said. "All I care about are the results." "OK," he said. "It sounds like you haven't done anything yet. Whatever Jake put into your mind, forget it. The last thing the kids need is a jailbird mother along with a jailbird father. You're not going to do anything. I won't let you." She didn't say anything for a minute. When she finally spoke, it was in a soft but firm voice. "Let's back up to where I asked you to shut up until I finish," she said. "You've never told me what to do, and you're not starting now. And I never tried to control you. Our marriage is based on love, respect and letting us make choices for ourselves and our family. "A lot of things can happen in prison, even in just a few months. The money is going to people who will make sure you come home with both eyes, all your teeth and all your bones the same as they are next Monday." "What if you get caught bribing guards or prisoners?" he said. "Maybe they won't prosecute you, but everyone will think I put you up to it, and that will affect their perception of me. Not just potential jurors or judges, but also the people at work. Everyone has been supportive, from the bosses on down. I can't believe how many came to court, and how some of the women were crying like I'm going to be executed." "You're wandering," she said. "I'm not going to get caught, because this has been going on forever, and everybody in the system knows it. If they catch me and charge me, it would open a can of worms that would ensnare all of them. So they mind their own business. There's nothing illegal about giving someone a gift and getting nothing of value for myself in return. In fact, everything I'm saying is only hypothetical. I haven't done anything. And you'll never know if I do. If anyone connects you to a lie detector and asks you if you know whether I did anything, you'll be honest without incriminating yourself. But I can almost guarantee you that will never happen. I've done my research." Hillary took a deep breath and looked at him in a strange way. "What?" he said. She didn't answer right away, but kept looking at him as if she was observing a rat in a cage. He squirmed. Finally, she took another deep breath and began talking. "I'm coming to the hard part," she said, "But it's about protecting you, so it's necessary. "Even though you'll be in minimum security, there are still some dangerous men men in there. Jake told me about a few young guys employed by the mob who shouldn't be there, except it was their first offense and it happened to not have involved violence or guns and they had expensive lawyers. "These guys are only in for a few years and they're very careful, but they run the joint, so they get whatever they want. At this facility, only married inmates get conjugal visits, so all the others get is sex with men like you. "They aren't gay, so they like their prison women to look more like women. You can't help it, but you don't have an overly muscular build, and you're not skinny. I'm not saying you look like a woman, but Jake said you are their type. "The money I'm paying will make sure they aren't as rough with you as with their other girlfriends, but they get off on humiliation. You'll be forced to do some disgusting things that will affect your mind. I'm going to find the best therapist in town for this kind of thing, and when you get out you'll get healed, no matter how long it takes or what it costs. I'll do anything the doctor says to get you back to who you are now. "But first we have to have a strategy for the next few months. With Jake's help, we found out about each of the men and we chose the one who's least dangerous to you, because of his temper and his size." "You chose someone for me?" said Sterling. As Hillary spoke, his eyes had been getting larger and his mouth opening wider. "Don't interrupt," she snapped. "I've been rehearsing how to tell you this. I'm almost done. "For your safety, I'm not telling you who he is. Jake says you'll know within three or four days for sure. I'm not saying he's a nice person, just that he's not as violent and bad tempered as the others. And that brings me to his size. "I don't mean his body size. They're all large and muscular. But he's the smallest where it counts. That doesn't mean he's small. Jake said no one had ever asked him to find that out before. From what he told me, this guy is about the same size as you, which I don't consider small. So he can't hurt you as badly as the others, but he can still hurt you." Hillary stopped talking. She looked at him for a few seconds, but her blank expression didn't change, and neither did her matter-of-fact voice when she spoke again. "Don't blame this on Jake or anyone else," she said. "It's all my idea. I didn't tell anyone, and nobody is ever going to know but you and me unless you tell them, because I never will." Hillary got up and walked out of the kitchen. He heard her opening the coat closet in the entry hall and pulling something off the shelf. When she returned, she was carrying a metal box he recognized from the office. It was used to transport computer drives from one office to another, often in different buildings. She brought it to the table and then got her keys from her purse to unlock it. It was on the table in front of her and the top was above his line of sight unless he stood, so he couldn't see what was inside. "This is what we're going to do for the next seven nights," she said as she reached in and took out a small vibrating dildo and placed it on the table. He started at it as she turned it on. "This is what we'll start with," she said as she pushed it toward him. Without thinking, he put his hands on the table and pushed himself back. She kept talking, and he kept staring at the dildo as it if were a loaded gun aimed at him. "Once you are used to that we'll move on to these," she said as she took out more dildos, each one longer and wider than the others. The last one was made of a soft rubbery material, and it was so long that it curved down from its weight. Then she lifted something else out. It wasn't a dildo, but a contraption. "This is what I'll wear," she said. "As you can see the largest one fits right in here. I'll be using lots of lubrication, but it may be uncomfortable at first. The idea is that we will train you to be able to accept his slightly smaller one without any tearing or other complications. "As I use it on you, I'll be doing other things that he might do to you, like pulling you back by your balls, squeezing them hard and slapping your ass. But mostly I'll be talking to you. Jake wanted to know why I wanted so much detail on what the guy says and does during sex. He even joked with me that maybe I was getting excited by his descriptions. But I kept pressing him to find out as much as he could. "The guy is a real sadist. While he's slamming into you, he'll be trying to humiliate you and make you question your manhood. He'll make you beg him to let you do things to him that are filthy and disgusting and then he'll remind you what you did later in front of others . "For the next week, I'm going to be that guy, I'm going to say those things, and you are going to do everything for me that you will have to do for him. I've even been gathering come - it's your own - to use for some of the things he does. It's not in this box. It's in the refrigerator and I'll heat it up for our sessions. "I'm not going to put in earplugs, because I want to hear everything you say so I can react to it the way he would. It's going to be a week of hell. "But when it's over, you'll be prepared. You know how to fake your emotions, so you'll be able to act surprised and degraded for him, but I hope you'll be immunized against him getting into your mind. You'll have heard it all before from someone who loves you enough to make sure you wouldn't be destroyed." When she was describing what she was going to do to him, she began looking at the floor and talking louder to make sure he heard her. Now she stopped, but continued to look at the floor for a few moments longer. Then she slowly raised her head. She saw that Sterling was motionless. He was staring at her with an open mouth, but he didn't seem to be alive. He was like a statue. She clenched her jaw, but she kept her face relaxed and unemotional to hide her feelings. She waited for him to talk. When he didn't, she spoke again. "I'm going to be hard and cruel, Sterling," she said, "that's what you need. Let's get started." She stood up and took a step toward him, reaching her arm out. As she did, he jumped up and quickly backed away a few steps and yelled, "No!" "Yes," she yelled back. "Don't you understand?" "No," he said more quietly. He shuddered. "No, Hillary, we are not going to do that. I understand your idea, and logically it makes sense. But emotionally, I can't. Yes I may be hurt by this guy, whoever he is, but my mind will have to deal with that when the time comes. As much pain as your plan might save me, it's nothing compared to what it would do to my mind. Just listening to you describe what you want to do to me, I'm scared out of my skin. "I've never backed away from anything in my life, and you know sometimes I'm a little too proud of that. I admit it. But this is nothing like anything I've ever had to face before - as a child, as an adult, at work, in our marriage. Even this horrible thing that someone is doing to me that is driving me out of my mind, because I can't figure out who he is and how he's doing it. Nothing has ever affected me the way your words did just now. It felt like they were tearing the guts out of my body. I'm sorry. I have to sit down." He collapsed onto his chair. Hillary continued to stand, looking at him with her face still locked into emotionless control. Finally, she sat down across from him. His head had dropped, and when she spoke to him he put his hands over his ears. She reached over and pulled them down. "Listen," she said, her voice still detached. "I'm not going to say anything more about this tonight or the rest of the week. But tomorrow night when the children are in bed, I'm going to look at you, and you'll know what we have to do. And if you can't manage tomorrow, I'll look at you Wednesday night. And I'll do it every night, up until the last night. I'm not going to give up, because I'll never give up on you. Sentence "Whatever happens this week or in jail, I'm going to take care of it. I told you I already know what the problem is , and as soon as I am able to get into your laptop and office computer, I'll find it and fix it, and you're going to be cleared, and all those government lawyers are going to be writing letters of apology and feeling lucky that they didn't cost the government millions in damages." "I'm glad you've haven't lost any of your confidence and determination," he said. "Whatever else happens, you did get the sentence reduced and that was awesome. I can't believe those cocky government lawyers agreed to your deal. They're so sure they'll find the money and put me away forever. But you managed to scare them just enough to knock a year and a half off my sentence in return for me signing away the right to sue them later. "We don't need the damages anyway, but I can't wait to see their faces when they realize they'll never find the stolen money because it doesn't exist. It may take a while, because one of them told me they're planning to give it at least five years, maybe more." "Don't talk like that, Sterling," said Hillary. Her face had changed back to her normal expression now, and her voice was full of emotion. "I told you I know the solution, and it won't take long. Within a month after you get out, you'll be totally exonerated and everyone who doubted you will look stupid. You have to believe me." "I believe you are confident you can do that," he said. "But whoever did this to me is an evil genius and much smarter than I am." "You've always said I'm the smartest person you know," she said. "I'm reminding you because you seem to have forgotten." "I haven't forgotten," he said. "But I don't know this guy. I've been trying for over a year to figure out how he did what he did, but I don't have any more of an idea than when I started." "That's because there is no guy," she said. "I told you it's something in the coding. I'll find it and fix it and embarrass the hell out of all the genius government hackers." "Except for one thing," he said. "I'll explain that, too," she said. "It's all bad coding." "Bad coding that stopped the withdrawals as soon as they put me on leave and confiscated my laptop?" he said. "Yes," she said. "You have to believe me, Sterling. It's all going to be fine. I know it." Hillary kept her promise the last week. Each night she looked at him expectantly with that face that betrayed nothing. And each night he collapsed into tears and convulsions and wouldn't be led to the bedroom. They sat silently in the kitchen until she finally gave up and went to bed. After she went up the stairs, he got up and went to the living room, where he sat in the dark another hour before going to bed. On Sunday night, after they played out this scene for the last time, Hillary didn't go to bed. After sitting silently in the kitchen for a while, her expression changed. It softened, and she wiped away a tear from her right eye as she said quietly, "Please look at me, Sterling." When he took his head out of his hands and looked at her, she was smiling a sad smile. "I give up," she said. "I tried my best to help you, but you wouldn't let me. But you know what I thought of last night. Even though we didn't do what I had planned, I think this was helpful in a small way because it forced you to think about what's going to happen. You've probably been imagining things that are worse than what will happen to you. Maybe because I made you torment yourself this week, you will be able to handle it without it destroying you." Sterling looked at her. "I know you meant well," he said, "and I'm ashamed that I hated you all week for doing this to me. But I do want to talk to you about something else that I've been thinking about every night. I want a divorce." "What?" she said. She was totally surprised, and her composure disappeared. "What did you say?" "I said it wrong," he said. "I want you to divorce me." "Why would I ever divorce you?" she asked. "Do you think I have even one tiny doubt about your innocence? How many times do I have to tell you that I know exactly what happened? It's a sub-routine that went flaky. You know all about how that can happen. The chances of it happening like this are low, but it did, and I'm going to show everyone that it happened and you had nothing to do with it. And I'm going to show that there is no missing money. It's all there, but until the subroutine is fixed, the accountants can't see it. "I told the boss all this when I agreed to come back for a few months and take over your job again until they find a better replacement than the guy who's there now. But they're not going to find a replacement, because every minute that I'm not taking care of IT business will be spent on your computer and laptop until I can fix the problem and turn your job back over to you. You know all this." "Yes," he said. "I know your plans, but -" "Wait a second," she interrupted, looking at her watch. "I've got to make a call. I'll be right back." "Who are you calling at this hour?" he asked as she got up and began walking to the phone in the family room. Apparently she didn't want to him to hear her conversation. As she walked by him, she said, "I'm sorry, but this is very important. I don't want to say anything now, but I'll tell you about it in a few days ." He waited. The call was short, and when she came back and sat down, she said, "Now where were we?" "I was about to tell you that I believe in you and your plans, but I still think someone did this to me. And by the way it was done, I don't know if you're ever going to catch him. If you can, it will take more than a few months. It will be more like years. This guy is really good. "Meanwhile, the Feds are not going to give up on me for a long time, and until they do, I won't have a job, and the children will be stigmatized. And you'll be hurt the most. Some of our friends are going to turn out to be fair weather friends. It always happens. You're going to go through hell. The kids don't deserve it, and you don't deserve it. I don't deserve you." "We've gone through this all before," she said. "If you were guilty, your argument would be stronger. Although, you're forgetting that guilty or innocent, I would never stop loving you and fighting for you. But you aren't guilty. We both know that, so don't talk about what you do and don't deserve." "I'll say it again," he said. "I don't deserve you. You have good reason to divorce me. I cheated on you." "Oh my god!" she screamed . "What did you just say?" "I said I cheated on you," he said. "It wasn't for very long, and it didn't mean anything to me. And afterward, I wasn't really sure why I did it. But I did it. I dishonored you, the kids, and our marriage. I don't deserve you. You and the kids would be better off without me, so you can just bring the papers to prison and I'll sign them." Hillary was rocking back and forth in her chair and holding herself with both hands. Her eyes were closed, and she was repeating over and over, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" She wasn't looking at Sterling. It was like she was talking to herself. "I'm really sorry," he said. "I knew you'd go crazy if you found out. That's the only reason I never confessed. I can see how much this hurts you. But now you're going to have no trouble divorcing me, so it's for the best." He didn't say anything else as he watched her rock and repeat the same three words for more than a minute. Finally, she stopped rocking, opened her eyes and looked at him. "Are you OK?" he said , his voice full of concern. "Yes," she said and let out a long sigh. "I'm sorry for acting like that, but I just dodged a bullet." "I'm glad you see things my way," he said. "What?" she said and then was silent for a few seconds. "Oh, you mean the divorce. That's silly, and you can forget it. I meant the phone call to Jake. I realized that if I had made it just a couple of minutes later, I would have regretted it the rest of my life. You would have thought I made it because you told me about you and Kali . Knowing you'd be thinking that would have destroyed me. Oh my god!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him up and embraced him. He felt her shaking and heard her crying and repeating "Oh my god!" He held her tightly until she calmed down. They sat again and were silent for a while, each lost in thought, until he said, "So you knew about Kali and me." She started and looked at him, but he could tell her thoughts were someplace else. "What did you say?" she said and then remembered. "Yes, yes, I knew. But the most important thing in my life right now is that you remember that I called Jake before you confessed. I had given up. I was sure you would never confess, but I called Jake anyway and you confessed after that. Will you remember? Do you promise?" "Yes," he said, "but I'm confused. Is there something between you and Jake? Did you just call him to break it off? I don't have any idea what you're talking about." "I'll tell you in a couple of days if you don't figure it out. Remember, you're almost as smart as me." She laughed. "Thank you, I guess," he said. "Do you want to hear about Kali or would you rather not?" "Do you feel like talking about it?" she said. "I only want to hear if it feels better to get it off your chest." He told her how he and Kali had been a team similar to the Hillary/Sterling team, and they had liked each other and were loyal to each other. Although Kali was happily married with children and he was, too, one late work night some mutual joking led to flirting which then led to them having sex at the office. He said that was the only place they ever did it, because the thought of sneaking around to hotel rooms repulsed both of them. They never planned anything and they only had sex maybe a dozen times during the short affair . It ended when they realized that even though they'd probably never get caught, the sex wasn't any better or even different from what they had at home. However, it might affect their family life and work relationship and besides, the whole thing seemed pointless. "We tried to figure out why we did it in the first place, but we were never sure. She felt it might have been because her marriage was arranged, and I thought maybe it was because she was Indian and that made her seem exotic. And that was it." "Did you and Kali rehearse your stories together?" asked Hillary . "Why? What do you mean?" he said. "Because she told me almost exactly the same thing," Hillary said. "Is that how you found out?" he said. "Did she tell you when you saw her at the courthouse?" "No," said Hillary. "I told her I knew about it, and she volunteered the details." "When did you find out?" he said. "It turns out I began suspecting it a couple of months after you started," Hillary said. "Don't ask me how. Even though we both know how to hide our feelings, I could tell something was going on. "I hired a private detective to make sure. He could see I was frothing like a rabid dog, and spent a lot of time warning me about doing anything crazy. I didn't listen to him. I was only thinking about how I could murder you and get away with it. But I wasn't going to hire a hit man and make it easy on you. I was going to personally torture you into a slow, agonizing death and enjoy every scream. I got tremendous satisfaction from being able to hide my thoughts so well that you had no clue about the terrible things I was planning for you . "Eventually, I calmed down and decided that wrecking her family and ruining both your lives would satisfy me. Then when I got the report and the evidence I needed, the detective told me that apparently you had both ended it a week before. He said it was the shortest affair he had ever investigated. I had him stay on the case for another month to confirm he was right. "So there I was with everything I needed for my revenge. But your affair was so short that I hesitated. I finally decided that it would be overkill to destroy two families. The punishment didn't fit the crime." "Thank you for not hurting Kali," he said. "She didn't deserve it." "She still has nightmares," said Hillary, "and sometimes when her husband does something especially kind, she falls apart because she feels so guilty and wants to come clean. But whe won't because she's afraid he would leave her. I think she's more than paid for what she did. We've actually become good friends, and the families may get together, but her husband must never find out. I'm sure you don't have a problem with that." "No," he said. "We both wish it had never happened. Thank you for not taking revenge on us." "Don't thank me," she said. "I mean it. There's nothing to thank me for, and now that you've said what you wanted to say, I don't want to hear anything else. If you ever do something like this again, we're through. But now I'm ready to move forward and put it behind us." "I am, too," he said, "but I wish I was as confident as you are about the next few years. I have a feeling I'll be thinking a lot about my case at night in my cell and after I get out, and I probably still won't know what happened." Jake was waiting at the prison the next morning. Hillary approached him for a moment and they exchanged a few words, and then she went over to their lawyer and began talking to him. Jake came over to Sterling, shook his hand and leaned close to him, speaking softly into his ear. "You've got some wife," he said. "She found a way to save your ass." "What do you mean?" said Sterling. "I mean she came up with enough money," said Jake. "I know," said Sterling. "She told me I would be safe." "No," said Jake. "I mean she managed to scrape together enough money so that no one will even touch you. She asked me all sorts of details about what happens on the inside. I think what I told her upset her so much that she took out some loans or something. Your lawyer must really be expensive, because first Hillary told me she would only give me enough money for the safety plan. But last night she called and told me you had suffered enough and asked me to pay for the whole deal and the lawyer would reimburse me this afternoon. I took care of everything this morning." "Thanks," said Sterling. "Thank you for everything." It was time for a few last words with Hillary before he had to walk through the gates. Sterling's mind was racing. He had been thinking about their conversation the night before and had some questions to ask her. His conversation with Jake added a few more. But the questions could wait until she visited him. Since it was a minimum security facility, she would come often. There was lots of time for talking later. He thought of what he should say to her. He had said everything already. He looked her in the eye and said, "I am so sorry about Kali. I wish I could think of a way to make up for what I did." "Don't think about it," she said as she stroked his hand. He couldn't let it go. "You know, it didn't last long," he said. "It was really very short." "Yes," she said with a sigh, "I know. Only two months and 23 days." Sentenced to Life How in the world did I get into this mess? I'm twenty-eight years old, with full head of hair, nice teeth and I'm not fat or stocky. I have a good job as welder for Power's Shipyard. I have worked there since the day I turned eighteen, just like my dad and granddad. They're also welders. So how the hell did I get sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole? My trial started at 3:00 pm on November 27, 1983. It was a cold day with a nice frosty breeze. At the time I just didn't understand how cold it was going to get. I should have listened to my granddad. By the way my name is Hank Wilson, and today I am at my parole hearing. It's been thirty years to the day. Like I said before, I should have listened to my granddad. "Hank," my granddad said, "There will be days that you'll wish you could run away and hide. Other days you wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world. And then there are those days you'll want to bury it and put it out of its misery!" My granddad told me this with the look of pride in his eyes that made me glad I was his grandson. My dad on the other hand wasn't so sure it was the right thing to do. "Hank, are you sure son? Are you sure you want to take this on? Your life will never be that same boy, NEVER BE THE SAME!" Like I said earlier, the trial started at 3:00 pm. The gallery was full with hundreds of witnesses. There was no way of getting free from this. I could run, but they would track me down. And after I was caught again, a life sentence would be a picnic compared to slow death in the electric chair. My attention was snapped back to the trial. "Hank, do you take Carol to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and hold, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, to love and cherish her till death do you part?" "TILL DEATH DO YOU PART" — that is a long ass time. Damn! Why in hell did I ask her to marry me? "SHIT!" That is what I was thinking, but I'm not dumb enough to say it out loud. But, boy oh boy, was I thinking it. — Three Years into my life sentence — "Damn, Carol! It's just a freaking couples retreat. Don't you realize that the Rams are playing in the Super Bowl this Sunday?" I said in my 'please baby, baby, please' voice. I had been trying to explain that the Ram are my team, and we had been to all her 'lets improve our marriage' junk for the last three years. I'd been told and retold how we could improve our marriage and save money. "Carol, I love you with all my blue and gold little heart," (the Saint Louis Ram's team colors.) "I completely understand you want to improve our marriage. Let me make a suggestion: fewer books and more sex! You keep reading that crap, but don't you realize that most of those writers aren't married? All they want is your money." I guess I didn't say it with the right tone because we went to the retreat and the Rams lost. You may not believe in karma but she jinxes the Rams every time. — Year Ten: Three Kids Later — "Will you guys shut up and go to bed! I won't tell you again," I said. "Um, dad? Its 3:30 Saturday afternoon," said my seven-year-old cornerback-to-be. "Ok, then go outside and ride a bike or play." Again, there just had to be some kind of lip from the kids. "Dad, it's raining," said my son. Shit, it always something. "Either go to your room or sit and be quiet." "Hank, go watch the game at the bar and let the kids play their video games on the big screen!" yelled Carol. I bought a $3,000 TV for Sunday night football and I get what? "Revenge of the Legos." The Rams lost again. I tell you —it's got to be Carol. — Year Twenty-Three: Two Gone and a Wake-up — "Carol quit crying. She's going to college, not Iraq. She'll be home in a month," I yelled. I looked at my daughter to make sure. "You will be back on the eighteenth of next month, right? I'm just making sure you'll be back; after all you promised you'd come home at least twice a month. "Remember, you can call me anytime you need and one more thing: NO BOYS!" Not realistic, but I had to say it anyway. — Year Twenty-Eight — "Carol, isn't she so cute? She looks just like her mother." She was all bundled up in her cute little pink hat and blanket. The sign proclaimed, "It's a girl." I looked at my little girl. "Damn it! Didn't I say no boys?" Her husband was too busy smiling and holding her hand to laugh; he had the look of a proud and scared father. I had the same look on my face twenty-six years ago. Where had all the time gone? — Thirty Years and a Day Later — "You know what, Carol? My granddad was right about my prison sentence. And this is one of those days I wish I could run away. Damn the Rams are losing again... "Carol, honey, what are you doing? "WOMAN! Give me that damn remote! Hey, don't think I won't go in there and get it. Carol stop running, the game is on. Come on honey, the game is on. "Hey stop that! You're not playing fair," I said. "I'm damn glad the kids and the grandkids aren't here today, with you running around like that... "What has got you so frisky?" Carol smiled up at me, "Nice and slow. You know I like it when you do that." Huh, what game? "Damn. Its good to be given a life sentence with a warden like you. Thirty years with no parole. Can life get any better?" Sentenced to Love Hubby embezzled; wife has to repay. * "You're sure about this?" Greg Urban asked his company's chief accountant, examining the papers in his hand. The older man nodded. "What the fuck was he thinking? Any trace of where the money went?" "Looks like parties and women--entertainment type of expenses. We checked the signatures on the receipts and requests for service. The client signatures are forgeries, and the companies deny requesting service trips for most of the dates." "Did you look at his local financials?" "Yeah. He's refinanced his house - - a brownstone in Brooklyn Heights- -to pay for his kids' educations. He has a daughter, a junior at Binghamton, and a son, will be a junior when he returns to Stony Brook in the fall. He's on a study tour of German wineries this semester. That's the major load. Three or four credit cards, nearly maxed out. He and the wife both drive moderately expensive Japanese cars, leased. No major vices, locally. He seems to keep his tomcatting for when he's away from home.' "What do you know about the wife? She benefit from Harry's dipping?" "Not as far as we can see. She's in her late thirties, a looker, not a trophy wife, even if she does look like one. She's ten or fifteen years younger than her husband, married him right out of high school. Went to business school after the son was born. Works temp jobs a couple of days each week for pocket money for her and the kids. Volunteers at a senior center when she doesn't work. Not much else. No evidence of any involvement with boyfriends. Has a couple of friends, women, she has dinner with when the husband is on the road. That's about it. "She's nice people, Greg. When Sarah's mother died a couple of years ago, she had us over for dinner a couple of times when Harry was traveling. They were pleasant evenings during a difficult time. I'd really hate to see her hurt by this." "I'll see what I can do. See what else you can find out about her, preferably without her knowing. And ground that son of a bitch. Twenty grand is enough to lose." ********** ********** ********** ********** ******** "There it is, boss. What I told you earlier, I got in conversation with her the times Sarah and I were over for dinner. I had a P.I. from Chicago go down to the town where she and Harry were married. Apparently her mother worked for a Dr. And Mrs. Jenkins, Harry's parents. Angela Carmody, the mother, and Aymee lived in, with the doc paying the mom under the table, so to speak. Angela died just before Aymee graduated high school. A freaky accident and when she was in the hospital, she developed an infection by some penicillin resistant bacteria. "Harry, apparently, met her on one of his infrequent visits home and was smitten. From what the P.I. could learn, he was her first and only boyfriend. They were married less than a month after her mother's funeral." Greg looked down at the single page report in his hand. Could it be? How many women would spell the name that way? "Call her, have her come in. Don't say anything about a problem. Tell her it's an effort to get to know the employees and their families better." "I'm not sure I can do that, Greg. I told you, I don't want to see her hurt by this." "That's okay, Don. I'll have Nancy call her and invite her to come in. And, I'll do my best to keep the hurt as small as I can." ********** *********** As Aymee Jenkins examined the documents her husband's employer had given her, she felt sick to her stomach. She recognized his signature on many of the receipts, and more importantly, she recognized his handwriting forging the signatures on service requests. She quickly totaled the fraudulent sums and realized there was no way they could repay the money. "Does Harry know you know?" "Not that we're aware." His tone was soft, gentle. It helped ease her anxiety and pain. "I had no idea. I don't know why...What are you going to do? Why did you ask me to come in?" "I don't know yet what we're going to do. Other than keeping him off the road, we haven't made any decisions yet. I guess partly I wanted to see what you might suggest." He got up from his desk and moved to the sideboard where a fresh pot of coffee waited. "Would you like some coffee?" "Hmmm, uh, oh, yes, thank you." Her mind was distracted, confused. "What could I possibly suggest? We don't have the means to repay that kind of money, even if there were no penalties or interest. We don't have any assets worth anything close to that amount. The only thing we have worth anything is the condominium, and it's mortgaged to the hilt" She rose and moved to stand next to him, taking her coffee. He led her to the conference area in his office, a grouping of furniture in a corner near the sideboard. They sat down on a small sofa, half turned toward each other, knees nearly touching. "Mrs. Jenkins," he started. "May I call you Aymee?" She nodded. "I had a sister with that name. I always thought of it as belonging to bright and cheerful people." He took a deep breath, then proceeded. "For a few minutes I'm afraid I have to be brutally frank. I know there is no way you and Harry can afford to repay the money he stole. But if I report the theft, he'll go to jail, for a fairly long time. You, and your children, would suffer a huge financial loss. You'd lose your house, the cars, your children would have to drop out of school, I know you are working on a degree. You'd have to give that up for the immediate future." She nodded, indicating she understood. She had, in fact, played that same scenario as she had fixed her coffee. She sat, looking down at the floor. "I would rather not see that happen." He reached over and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. As he spoke, his hand slipped down to her shoulder. "What are you willing to do for your children, for you, to avoid that? I won't say for Harry. He doesn't, shouldn't merit your consideration." "What would I do? What can I do? I'd do anything I can, short of murder." She gave a small smile. "Although I am considering that." "I don't blame you," he said, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Tell me the limits of anything." "I don't know. I'm a good typist. I have some computer skills, but from what Harry has told me about his job, not ones you can use. But if there is anything I could do...." Greg let his hand slip down so it covered her breast. "Anything?" In less than an heartbeat, she pushed his hand away, glaring at him. For a long moment she stared at him wordlessly. Then she stood up and walked to the window, where she stood gazing out, not seeing anything as she considered his unspoken proposal. Still facing the window she said, "You are a real bastard, aren't you?" "Not legally, but, from your point of view, yes, probably. I didn't plan this. It just occurred to me as I was contemplating what would happen if your husband went to jail." She turned from the window and looked him up and down. She saw a man, a few years older than herself, in his mid-forties, fairly good looking, fit, about six feet tall. Like herself, chestnut colored hair and blue eyes. She returned to the sofa and sat. "What would I have to do?" "Become my mistress. I would expect you to be monogamous--me and only me as long as the relationship lasts. That would also exclude Harry. Within our relationship, I would expect honesty, openness, a willingness to share, to experiment. I would not expect love, but respect, both ways, and friendliness, if not friendship. I don't practice bondage, or S and M, so there would be none of that, and, as I said, I don't share, at least not without consent." She blew out her breath, "Phewwww. It sounds like a prenup without any of the money terms. It sounds reasonable. How long would I have to .....work?" "Don't know. Until I felt Harry was punished enough." "If that is going to be your criterion," she laughed, " it won't work. Our marriage has been over for years. When Robbie, our son, started college, Harry agreed to see him through his bachelors degree. Then, he said, he wanted me to file for divorce. "But, if the offer is still open, I'll accept your terms." Greg sat, stunned. He had made the proposal, half in jest, expecting to get slapped. He thought a minute. "Your job starts now. I'm going to ask a hell of a lot from you for the next hour." He moved to his desk and picked up his phone. "Nancy, call Harry Jenkins' boss and have Harry here in twenty minutes. Thank you." He turned to Aymee. "For the next hour, you need to do everything I ask of you without objection, including submitting to me in front of your husband, allowing me to use you whatever way I wish. Letting me show Harry just how much I intend to degrade you. I will use language I hope you never hear me use again, even in anger. If you feel degraded and abused, let Harry know it is his fault. Make him feel guilty." "You intend to fuck me in front of Harry, trying to make him feel bad? As your employee slash mistress, I'll do whatever you say. As your..."friend" you said, I don't think it will work. "Harry stopped caring for me shortly after Rob was born. He hasn't touched me in five or six years. He got angry when I stopped letting him perform oral sex on me. Every time he tried, I developed a vaginal infection. The last time, after Robbie was born, it was so bad, it scarred my tubes so I couldn't get pregnant anymore." She looked up at him from her seat, "but I'm willing to do what you ask. Since Harry doesn't want me anymore, I may as well find someone who does, what ever the reason." She stood up. "Do you want me naked when he gets here?" Greg shook his head no as he reached to unbutton the blouse she wore under her blazer. "No, I think when a woman is being forced, it makes her look more vulnerable if she is partially dressed. " He reached inside her blouse to unhook her bra in the back and drew his hands out, caressing her skin under the bra straps, until he reached her breasts. He gently lifted them, cupping and caressing them at the same time. "Very nice," he said. "I can hardly wait to see and feel them properly." He was interrupted by his intercom. "Harry Jenkins is here Mr. Urban. Should I send him in?" "Give me a bit, Nancy. I'll let you know when." "Very well, sir. Mr. Jenkins, please have..." and the intercom shut off. "I'm going to apologize now for my behavior in the next hour," Greg said, and bent to kiss Aymee. "Sorry," she said, with a smile in her voice and in her eyes, "but I don't kiss on the first date." He looked at her quizzically, then laughed. "Okay, until you're ready. Now over by the desk." He positioned her at the end of the desk, in front of the window. When she looked at the window, and then at him with a worried frown, he pulled her blouse tails from her skirt and threw them over her head. He pushed her skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties down to mid thigh level. As he punched on the intercom, he slid his hand down over her ass until he reached her pussy lips. Slowly, he began to rub them, pressing his middle finger between them, searching for her pleasure center, eliciting a small moan. "Okay, Nancy, send Harry in." When Harry entered the office, he saw his boss standing behind a vaguely familiar woman, her skirt hiked up around her waist, her blouse thrown over her head, masking her face. "Uhh, excuse me, sir. You asked to see me?" "Ahh, yes, Harry. Come on in, and close and lock the door." When Harry finished locking the door, Greg uncovered Aymee's face and told Harry "Now Harry, take off your pants. We're all gonna get naked here soon." Harry gasped when he saw his wife's face. "What's going on here? Why is she here, like that?" Aymee responded, nearly shouting, "This is all your fault, you bastard! Couldn't keep that little cock of yours in your pants when you were away from home, huh? Well, the only way to keep your sorry ass out of jail is for me to sell mine to your boss here! Did you ever think of me and the kids after you got on the plane? Or did little dickhead do all of your thinking for you? You son of a bitch!! You did this to me after twenty one years of marriage? I should let them throw you in jail!" She started to stand, but stopped when she felt Greg's hand on her back. Greg looked at her, partly in wonder, partly in appreciation. Although he had suggested a minor role in berating Harry, her accusing him like this would be much more effective. "Get your pants off, Harry, now! I'll explain. To keep you out of jail, at least until your son graduates, your wife has agreed to become my mistress. Since I demand monogamy, that means you no longer get to fuck her. She says that's not a big deal, since you weren't that good, and haven't asked for it in quite a while, anyway. "However, you will have a role to play. I will visit your wife, at your house, every Tuesday evening, and every Friday evening. If you are at home, when I am done fucking her, you will use your tongue and lips to clean my cock. Since I usually fuck my whores in the ass when I am about to finish, it should be a special treat for you. If you do a good job, then you get to clean the slut's ass, too. "Today, since I am a bit tired from banging my secretary this morning, I need some stimulation, and since your wife says she doesn't kiss on first dates, it's your job. Get over here on your knees and get me hard." Harry was trying to extricate his feet from his pants legs when he heard this final command. He nearly fell on his face in horror. He looked at his boss, lifting his wife onto the desk and pushing her to lie on her back. "Come on, Harry, get the fuck over here. I'm waiting for you to start eating me before I start on your wife. "God, she looks good. I love your natural bush, Aymee. You have a beautiful cunt. Harry, what are you waiting for? Suck my cock, or learn to suck the studs in jail. Which will it be? Bring me your shirt, I don't want to get pussy juice and saliva all over the mahogany. Good. Now get sucking." Harry dropped to his fifty year old knees and, using two fingers, pulled Greg's flaccid cock to his mouth. He held it like it was a dead rat, and when he closed his lips around it, treated it the same way. Greg bopped him on the head with a knuckle. "Come on, Harry. Give me the same treatment you were buying from the girls in St Paul. A little tongue, some suction, some face fuggin. Come on, get with it." As the realization of the implications sank in, Harry seemed to wilt. Not only had he been caught with his hand in the till, so to speak. He had also been caught with the other hand up a skirt. He was faced with a choice, as his boss had pointed out. Do his boss, or be done by the inmates in what ever prison he was sent to. He opened his mouth and took the whole of the flaccid penis in his mouth and started sucking like it was a popsicle. In a few seconds he felt the cock in his mouth swell and try to force its way down his throat. "Good job, Harry. Now go sit down and let me show you how to please a slutty whore." Greg bent over Aymee, lifting her ass onto Harry's shirt, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk. His mouth closed over her inner labia, his tongue just barely dancing on their surface. "What? Ohhhh, nooo! Don't do that. Stop, please. Noooooo. Don't. Stop. Please don't. Nono nononononooooooooooo. Don't stop. Oh God, please don't stop. Harry, you bastard, this is your fault. I didn't want this.. Ohmigawd, I'm gonna cummmmmmmming!!!!!!!!!!" Her wail was clearly heard in the outer office. Luckily, Nancy was alone. She smiled to herself and shimmied in her chair. She knew what that cry meant and remembered the many times she, too, might have been heard. Greg slowed his tongue down to lazy, soothing licks. When Aymee was quiet, he helped her to the sofa, where he put her into the doggie position. "Harry, this is how this is gonna work. Based on what you seemed to be paying out in St Paul and Denver, I figure your wife is worth a hundred dollars a night. That seem fair to you? Thought you'd agree. So far, we've found where you've tapped us for twenty grand. That means two hundred nights. Much as I'd love to fuck her every night for two hundred nights straight, I can't. And I doubt if she can either. "So twice a week, except if she comes, like she just did, or even just a noticeable twinge of a come, that night doesn't count. For it to count, she can't enjoy it, even if she doesn't come. And if you're there, you get to suck me clean of all the cum and shit on my cock when I'm done. If you're not there, then obviously you can't. "And, unless she asks you for help, you may not touch her--in love, lust, anger, whatever. If you do, you'll wish all you had to deal with was the bull dykes in jail. "And, effective tomorrow, you will be transferred to the bull pen, handling customer complaints. You will be working the midnight to nine shift, handling the overseas calls. Obviously, there will be a pay cut; can't pay a customer service rep what we pay an engineer, can we?" While he had been talking, Greg had stripped Aymee and himself. He got up on the sofa behind her and started rubbing his cock up and down her slit. Much as she wanted to beg him not to tease her, she bit her lip to stay quiet. She even tried to pull away from him. Greg noticed and grabbed her hair to pull her back. "Don't try to get away cunt, you agreed to this, now do it! Back that pussy on to my cock. Come on, do it! That's a good slut." He pushed his cock all the way in, until his balls hit her ass. "Shit, you're tight. Are you sure you've had kids? Last time I was in anyone this tight, she was cherry. God, I can hardly move. Harry, what the fuck were you thinking, giving this up. It's like being in a silk velvet glove. Hell, I think I'll just park here for a while. Get your clothes on Harry and get the fuck out of here." Greg crossed his legs behind him and sat back so he was sitting campfire style. He pulled Aymee back into his lap, forcing his cock up against her cervix. With his arms wrapped around her, he felt more than heard her moan. As Harry left the office, he straightened slightly, turned her face toward him and gently kissed her on the lips. "Are you okay," he asked. "Mmmhmm. I better warn you though, if you're only going to count the nights I don't enjoy this, Harry's never going to finish his sentence." Harry didn't wait for the invitation. He moved out that night. ********** ********** Six weeks had gone by and Greg had kept the twice a week schedule. Except there had been no sex. Dinner, theater, dancing, movies, museums and conversations galore. And a simple kiss goodnight at the door. Tonight, Aymee had insisted on cooking for them. A deliciously simple rabbit fricassee, an honest to goodness real Caesar salad, a Pinot Grigio, followed by a homemade cheesecake. She poured them another glass of wine and led Greg by the hand to the den. She had him sit on the sofa and sat next to him, leaning into him with her legs curled under her, pushing her upper body into his side. "May I ask you something," she said. "Of course, anything you want to know." "What's going on? The first day I met you, we had sex like there wasn't ever going to be a chance to repeat it, and since then, if our tongues meet while you kiss me goodnight, it's practically a national holiday. Not that I haven't enjoyed being with you. "I've loved every minute. I look forward to the days I know you'll be here, and count the minutes on those days until you ring the door. I can't wait to see you again as soon as you drive away. I want to be with you. I want to make love with you, and I sense you want me the same way, I've never felt like this with Harry, or with anyone else. And there have been opportunities. Sentenced to Love "I never cheated on Harry, but there were times I could have. And now, I want to screw you silly, Greg Urban. And I want to make love with you, and fuck you and love you some more. "That day in your office after Harry left was the most wonderful time I have ever had. In twenty years of marriage to a man I thought I loved, it was never close to that good. I thought I knew what orgasms were, but you took me to places I never even dreamed about. But since then? Why?" "I guess it's guilt. I feel as though I have blackmailed you into having sex with me, rape by coercion as it were. I do want you. I've wanted you since you walked into the office that morning. I can't tell you how happy what you just said makes me. "Much as I have wanted you, and knew that you would have let me because of our deal, I wanted, no, I needed you to want me. Not to feel like you owed it to me or were obligated to service me. But to want to be with me because of me." "You silly goose. We could have thrown the deal out the first day. Just because the sex was so good. Or at the end of the first week because of how I was starting to feel about you." She reached up and pulled his face to hers, started a slow gentle kiss. When she felt his tongue probing, she answered with hers and crawled into his lap. She broke the kiss and said, "Can I ask another question?" "If you have to." "Will you make love with me tonight?" He stood up lifting her, cradled in his arms. "Where's your bedroom?" "Upstairs, first door on the right. Put me down, I want you in shape to perform as soon as we get up there. You've got six weeks of skizzling to make up for. Damn good thing it's Friday and you don't have anywhere to be before Monday morning." "Says who?" "I called and checked your calendar with Nancy. We've gotten to be good friends. She said she misses her mornings with you. Maybe I should invite her to join us sometimes? Or as long as I know who you're doing, it might be alright to do her in the office again." "I told you I don't share, without consent. I won't share you unless we both consent. I have to like the guy, and so do you. And I won't share me unless you say it's okay. So if you think it's okay for me to start servicing Nancy again, and she wants..." By now,they were in Aymee's bedroom. He caught her as she jumped on him. "Not until you have fully met your obligations here. The first night we can reduce Harry's sentence, you might have my permission to screw Nancy the next morning, if you can get it up, because I think you're going to be an old, old man." He dropped her on the bed and then dropped on her, pinning her to the mattress. As he kissed her again, he started removing her clothes, taking every opportunity to feel her B size breasts. Because of her height and relatively broad shoulders, they gave the appearance of being smaller. That they weren't was a pleasant surprise. He nuzzled them, and sucked on her erect nipples as he worked her slacks and panties down her legs. Once her clothes were removed, he parted her legs and started his tongue working on her slit as he removed his pants and shirt. The effect on her was immediate, sooner than when he had given her head in the office. Her orgasm was almost immediate, and lasted for nearly a minute before she pushed him away. "Y-Y-Y-Y-ou've got to stop that. 'SSS too much." she croaked out as she caught her breath. "You've got to promise me, no more after I'm eighty." "Okay," he laughed as he rolled her on top of him. She looked at him, questioning. "Problem?" he asked. "What do you want me to do," she asked him. "I thought..." "You've never been on top?" "No, Harry always had to be on top, face to face. In your office was the first time I had ever done anything else." Greg had her raise up on her knees, then helped her lean to one side. He then had her reach between her legs and guide him into her vagina. As she slid down his shaft, they both moaned in pleasure. "Damn, you feel good," they said together. They looked at each other in surprise, then laughed. "Ohhhh," Aymee said, "that tickles so nice." "Maybe, I should tickle you for real." "Only if you want to get tickled back," she said reaching around to lightly scratch his sac. "No, no, I'll just play with these," he said reaching for her tits. As he began to play with her nipples, she searched for her stroke--the one which would pleasure them both the most. She tried quick short strokes, quick long strokes, long, slow strokes, short slow strokes, twisting strokes, both long and short, fast and slow. She was upright, she lay on his chest and back on his thighs. In a moment of inspiration, she rose up until only his tip was in her and turned around, so she faced his feet, then repeated the motion so she was back facing him. She looked at his surprise and giggled. "This is fun," she said. "I like being on top. There's a whole lot more to do. You can be on the bottom from now on." He growled and pulled her down to his chest, then rolled over, not losing an inch of penetration. He began stroking in and out, using the same sort of variation she had. Soon he heard her breathing change, and then felt her body tense, as if someone were cocking a crossbow. Barely a noticeable time later, she screamed in pleasure as her orgasm hit, followed almost immediately by his own explosion of sperm laden fluid deep within her. The feel of the hot liquid bathing her inner walls tripped another spasm of pleasure. And as he pumped out spurt after spurt of his treasure, she was rewarded with distinct, but diminishing pleasure spasms of her own, "except," she continued, as if uninterrupted, gasping slightly, " when you're on top. God, I love you." "I love you, too. I'm in love with you, and will be as long as you want me." As they lay there in each others arms, basking in the glorious afterglow, Aymee noticed Greg still wore his tee shirt. "You cold? I'm sure I can warm you up." "Uhh, no. Just didn't have time to get it off." Together they pulled and manipulated the shirt over Greg's head. As they lay back down in their cuddle position, Aymee noticed Greg's right chest area. It had a dark brown crescent shape, similar to a crescent moon, right above his nipple. "What's this?" she asked, "My birth mark, It used to piss my dad off. He said it was bad enough that she had run off, but she had to leave me back with her brand on me." "With her brand? That's strange. Rob has a similar mark. My mother used to tell me that all the sons born of the women in her family line...Oh my God! What have we done? Did you know about this? You did. I can see it in your face. What have you done? Get off me, now!" She pulled off and away from Greg and ran to the bathroom. He ran after her and got to the door just in time to hear it lock. "Aymee, let me in. Let me try to explain." "There isn't any explanation. Leave me alone." Greg slumped against the wall across from the door. What ever he was going to do, it didn't involve leaving her. He waited. Three minutes, four minutes, they seemed like hours. Six minutes, ten, fifteen, then he heard the lock release, saw the door open. "Good," she said, "You're still here." She crossed the hall to him, then slapped his face hard enough to rattle his teeth. That slap was followed by a flurry of slaps to his face and head, hard enough to be felt, but not to hurt. Then she jumped in his arms and kissed him, wrapping her legs around him so her still bare pussy trapped his cock against his thigh. When they finally broke the kiss, she took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. "For better or for worse," she said, "I love you; I am so far in love with you, I can't see any way out. I don't want to see any way out. I want you, only you, for as long as you'll have me. I suppose I should feel ....I don't know, but something other than wanting to be with you like I do." She paused, obviously puzzling something out. "I can't have any more children, so that is a non-issue. As far as you know, does anyone else know?" Her look said she wanted to forgive him, but wasn't sure she could. Greg shook his head. "I didn't know for sure. I suspected when I saw your name and your mother's. My mother's name was Angela Villagre. When I was five, she took her newborn baby and ran away from my father. He told me later she couldn't even spell the baby's name right, she had spelled it A-y-m-e-e, not the traditional Amy. And then your last name, Carmody, was the name of mother's best friend, across the back yard. "When I got old enough to start asking about my mother, Mrs. Carmody told me that my mother had run away to protect her baby girl from my father. I learned after he died he had been tried for sexually abusing young girls. As long as I was home, he seemed to be able to control himself. But when I went away to college, he wrote me that his demons were after him again. The day I got that letter, I heard that he had committed suicide. "When you came into the office that day, you sort of looked familiar, sort of like her, but it was a very faint memory. And our coloring is so similar, I could have been reacting to that. I wasn't sure, and I was so attracted to you instantly, I didn't want to know. And now that I do know, I don't care. I love you. "You asked me what have I done. I've fallen in love with my sister. And I want to be with her always." "What about Harry? What do we do about him?" Greg thought a minute. "Tell him his sentence has been commuted to time served and advise him to get out of Dodge. Let him sell this house and take what he can from it. I think he'll take the opportunity and leave. I've seen him at work. He's looking pretty seedy lately. Whenever I go around the bullpen, he tries to hide." Greg pulled her close. "You and the kids can move into my place. It's plenty roomy enough. If they ever notice my crescent, and ask about it. It's a coincidence, or I'm a distant cousin. Or both, I'm a cousin who is a distant coincidence." "What about what he owes you?" "I'm going to insist you work it off." She laughed. "Did you ever try to find us?" Greg frowned. "There was no way. The letters to Mrs Carmody had a return address and post mark of general delivery, from the main Chicago post office. I ran personal ads in the Chicago papers daily for six months. That was a few years after Dad died. You would have been fourteen when that happened. I graduated three years later. That's when I ran the ads. That would have been the year Mom died, and you got married. No wonder there wasn't any answer." Aymee disentangled herself from Greg. "I'll be right back, don't go away." She returned shortly with an envelope. "She wrote this the day they discovered the infection. I think she knew she was going to die. She told me to send it to Mrs Carmody, but it came back marked addressee unknown. I held onto it, because it was all I had of her." Greg opened the letter and quickly scanned it. It was written in the spidery scrawl of someone who obviously was not well, but the handwriting was still graceful, the product of one who enjoyed creating beauty. The content pretty much confirmed what Mrs Carmody had told him, with the added fact that his father had been overheard talking with one of his friends and had been heard to comment that he could hardly wait for Aymee to be old enough to start school, the age of the girl he had been charged with molesting. His mother said she couldn't take the chance he would change, and begged Greg's forgiveness for leaving him alone with such an evil man. Greg shook his head. His dad hadn't been all evil. Despite his father's flaw, Greg had developed a moral foundation and a set of personal ethics which had led him to both personal and professional success. His dad had been sick and realized it. While Greg was home, he was able to help keep his father on the medication which controlled his urges. When Greg went off to college, his ability to influence his dad left with him. "Did you read it?" he asked Aymee. "Yeah, when it came back. But there was no name, no hint of who to look for. I called information for the town in the address--Pekin?--but they didn't have any listing for a Carmody. "We had settled in a small town about fifteen miles southwest of Notre Dame. During the period you were advertising, Mom was in the hospital. I don't think I saw a paper in that period, and I probably wasn't looking in the personals anyway. "I'm so sorry. It would have been nice to have a big brother back then. I didn't even know about you until I read the letter. Mom just said she had run away from an unhappy marriage." Greg put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "So, Mrs Jenkins, getting back to what I mentioned earlier. Will you come live in sin with me? Or better yet, will Aymee Jenkins, nee Carmody, marry Greg Urban, successful entrepreneur? As far as the government knows, it's legal, and there is no one alive but us to know otherwise." She pulled in closer to him, inhaled his smell and felt comforted, and secure. "God knows, I want to," she said and hesitated, " want to jump your bones." she continued, jumping into his lap and straddling his legs. impaling her pussy on his cock, "Of course I'll marry you, silly goose, why do you think you're still here?" She kissed him passionately, starting a tongue duel. Breaking off the kiss, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Oh, and about Nancy, no. I don't share anymore, either."