What A Mess: Betrayal

Sklar

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Okay, everyone, thank you for your patience.

For those of you who are new to this story, you may be a bit lost, as this is the sequel to my story What A Mess: Blackmail

Here is the link to that story:

What A Mess: Blackmail

As I am writing this new book, I am finding that there is a lack of sex, at this point, 10 chapters in.

So if you are looking for that, this next book is going to be a little disappointing for you. Don’t get me wrong, there is going to be sex in it, but no where near as much as the first one.

10 chapters in and it’s all mental and emotional.

Just like my previous story, I do have some rules for this thread:

  • Please feel free to post pictures of who you think the main characters look like. Those pictures must include their face. I don’t want this thread littered with ass, cock, pussy and breast pictures. I want to see faces, too.
  • Please don’t include links that take you to different literary sites. I don’t want this thread hijacked.
  • Illustrators – if you have artistic talents and want to illustrate a chapter, I would appreciate that. I’m sure the readers would, too.
I will try to post on a semi regular basis. However, I am still working full time and life is happening for me, too.

Just today, I found out that the man who first introduced me to the Army Psychological Operations division, when we served together in Somalia, has passed away. We had connected on Facebook last year after almost 30 years of no contact.

We spent so many hours on the phone and texting back and forth with each other.

I miss not being able to talk to him, already.

But I do have the first 10 chapters done and I said I would start posting when I reached that milestone.

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present to you:



WHAT A MESS: BETRAYAL​
 
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Sklar

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Chapter 1​



FLASHBACK

“Oh, God, Jim,” Lisa moans, with her arms wrapped around my back, “go slow, stud. You’re soooooo deep in me.”

“Once I get past the first two inches, baby,” I moan softly into her ear, “it’s all virgin territory.” Lisa’s body clamps tight against my cock.

“I’m…”

FLASHBACK

I’m pulling my cock out of Lisa’s mouth. She’s breathing deeply, tears running down her face.

“Fuck, Jim,” she moans, running her hands up and down my throbbing cock, “I’ve never had a cock this big, before. I can’t get it all down my throat.”

“That’s what happens,” I say, leaking all over her face, “when you have a real cock to suck.”

“Pregnant.”

FLASHBACK

“I’M CUMMMMMIIIIINNNNNGGGGG,” Lisa shouts, as her back is against the wall and her legs wrapped around my waist. “FFFFFUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK MMMMMMMEEEEEEE,” she screams in my ear as I fuck her deeper than Paul ever could.

“And you’re…”

FLASHBACK

“C’mere, Jim,” Lisa says from the bed, spreading her legs, “fuck me like I’m a virgin.”

“With my cock, baby,” I say, gripping my hard cock in my right hand, “every time is going to be like you’re a virgin.”

“The father.”

“The father.”

“The father.”

REALITY

I’m…I’m back in the present. Those few scenes with me fucking Lisa, flashing through my mind. She just admitted our affair. Holy fuck, in front of Char! In front of Paul!

He’s going to kill me! I look at him and he’s…not angry? He’s smiling, ruefully?? He’s looking...relieved??? What the fuck?

Char is crying harder. That I can understand. Just when our marriage is back on track, she finds out that she’s pregnant. Then she finds out about the affair I’ve been having with Lisa. And THEN she finds out that Lisa is pregnant. With my child!

“What do you mean, I’m the father?” I ask, bewildered. Looking at Lisa. That fucking bitch! How can she do this when Paul is right there?? There is a good chance, no, a better chance, that the baby is Paul’s. “Paul is right there. He’s the father of your baby.” Lord, let that be true!

“That would be impossible, Jim,” Paul says, sadly.

“Why?” I say, hotly. “You’re her husband. You’re the one who’s been fucking her!” Except I know that’s not true. Obviously. I’ve been fucking her for the past three years. But so has he!

Char is still crying into her hands. Fuck! I’ve fucked this up so badly! How can I fix this with her? Can I fix this with her? Will she ever forgive me for doing this to her?

“No,” he says, a tear running down his face. “I…I haven’t…haven’t had sex with Lisa for the last three years.”

What?? What fucking bullshit is this??

Paul starts crying, softly, “I’ve…I’ve known…about the affair from the very beginning. God <sniffling> forgive me. Jim, please forgive me, but I helped set it up.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Matt yells, throwing open his door and running out to stand at the side of his parents. Both Paul and Lisa are shocked that Matt is there. That’s fine with me. The more they are distracted, the more time I have to try and gather my thoughts and control my emotions. “YOU KNEW ABOUT IT? YOU HELPED SET IT UP? BOTH OF YOU??”

“Matthew,” Paul says in shock, “what are you doing here?”

“Don’t evade the question! You set him up? You both set him up?” Matt’s voice starts to break. Lisa looks at her son and nods, suddenly tearing up. Paul silently does, too. “How could you? He’s your best friend!” Matt looks at his parents and starts to cry. Then he turns to me, “Jim, I am so sorry. F-fo-for ev-everything.” Then walks, crying, towards the front door.

“Matt,” Paul says, crying, walking after him, “wait. There are things you don’t know.”

“All I know,” Matt says, glaring at Paul, “is you betrayed your best friend.” Paul reaches to grab Matt’s shoulder. “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He then runs to the door, opens it, and races out, with Paul following him.

I am trying to get my own emotions under control. I look at Lisa. All I can feel for her is pity. Pity that she hasn’t been able to have sex with her own husband for the past three years. Pity that her own husband couldn’t fulfill her. Pity that she is now carrying another man’s, my, child. I can’t be angry with her, for the same reason that I was never angry at Matt for successfully blackmailing me for sex. They both carried out their objectives flawlessly. They got what they wanted. Matt got a submissive cock sucker, a fuck toy and a mentor. Lisa got her affair. And now a baby. It just cost me my marriage with Char.

I look over at Char. All of our problems started with the affair. Char’s a mess, emotionally. She’s still crying into her hands. Fuck. We just found out fifteen minutes ago that she is pregnant, too. We never wanted kids. We just wanted each other and our careers. We trusted too much in her birth control prescription. And the company fucked that up. They’re now under congressional investigation. Is that what happened with Lisa? It has to be.

But what is Char going to do? Just the shock of finding out we were pregnant sent us both into an emotional nosedive. Her worse than me. Then she finds out that her best friend was having an affair with her husband. And then finds out that the affair caused her best friend to get pregnant, too. Fuck, now I’m going to have two kids, which will be half-brothers or sisters to each other.

Oh, shit! The baby may not be mine. It could be Matt’s! We had the three way with him early this month. Lisa just spent a week with him at UCLA. They had sex that week, too. Charlotte was supposed to have her period this past Saturday. And didn’t.

Matt could just as easily be the father, as I could be the father!

I start to cry into my hands.

A pit opens up underneath me, emotionally, and I fall in.

How?

How could something that I thought was finally perfect, be so fucked up?

I made a fucking mess of not just my life, but Char’s. Lisa’s. Paul’s. Matt’s.

This is all my fault, as I cry into my hands, too.

Paul comes back in and shuts the door. He walks towards us, crying, and sits next to Lisa.

“I couldn’t catch him,” he says, between breaths. “He took off running and I couldn’t catch him. He was just too fast.” Lisa reaches out and puts her arm around his shoulders and pulls him into her. She’s crying, too.

What a sight we must be. All in various stages of crying.

“…but I helped set it up.” Paul’s words echo in my mind, and I look up. My crying dying away. Anger building.

“What did you mean, Paul,” I say, with some venom, “when you said you helped set the affair up?”

Paul wipes his nose with the back of his hand, getting his crying under control. “I knew,” he begins, quietly, between breaths, “that I would never be able to have sex with Lisa, again. So, we talked about opening up our marriage for her.”

“We…we didn’t want a stranger,” Lisa says, when Paul paused for too long a time. “We wanted someone we liked, and we trusted.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said, with some heat. “I know that you have had sex. Lisa has to peg you so you can fuck her.” They both looked shocked at that.

“That worked in the beginning,” Paul says, sniffling, face falling. “But, maybe for a month. I just couldn’t sustain an erection, anymore.”

“So, because you are the one with ED issues, my life, my marriage was ruined?” I say, remembering his joke at the airport. Remembering these past three years as Char and I went from husband/wife to roommates.

“It’s not like that,” Paul says.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what it’s like, Paul!” I shout at him, glaring at the two of them. “How did I get the be the “lucky” one, in this scenario?”

“You were the only one we could trust,” Lisa says, sniffing. “You’re friendly. You’re outgoing. You’re a good man, Jim.”

“So, you started texting me, to feel me out?” I say to her, accusingly.

“Yes,” she says, nodding her heard. “But you kept saying no.”

“And I should have kept saying no!” I say, hotly. “I finally said yes when…”

“When I started in on how much bigger your dick is than Paul’s,” she says, nodding. Paul just sits there, tears running down his face. How could he have ED when he was hard every time I fucked him, last week. Every time I fucked him, he was hard and leaking! Fuck, to think I felt bad about mocking him. The mother fucker! He helped arrange this whole thing. The mother fucker!

“So, you choose me because…what? I have a bigger cock than Paul?” I say, mockingly. He looks downcast but that could be because this is all finally coming out.

“No,” Lisa says, “I told you why. You’re friendly. You’re outgoing. You live next door. Your ego helped make it easier.”

“What do you mean, my ego?” I ask, with venom.

“You’re proud of you cock, Jim. You like it when you’re the cock of the walk. All I, I’m sorry,” she says, turning to Paul, who closes his eyes and nods, “all I had to do was play up to your ego about how much bigger it is and suddenly, you were at my door ready to go.”

I sit there, stunned. She’s absolutely right. I was saying no. Every time. Until she started doing that. We had only known Paul and Lisa for two years, at that point. He was just a co-worker who lived next door. We grew to be best friends…best friends…

What a fucking joke. I look at Paul and all I see is red.

PAUL: Hey, everyone. I want to introduce you to Jim Clinton. He’s my best friend that my wife has been leading around by his cock. Just stroke his ego and he’ll fuck you!

I shake my head, glaring at Paul. Willing him to catch on fire from my anger.

Bastard.

“How did you even know about that?” I ask her, directly, pissed.

“How did you know that I peg Paul?” she replies, quietly.

I sit there. Looking at her. Replaying her question over and over again.

“Paul,” she says slowly, “likes to be pegged.”

And I slowly turn my head to the left.

Looking at the love of my life.

Looking at my wife.

My wife, who had stopped crying a few minutes ago.

My wife, who has tears restart again.

“What did you do?” I ask her, my voice as emotionless as ice.
 

Sklar

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Chapter 2​

“Charlotte,” I say with zero emotion in my voice. It has to be zero emotion. I won’t be able to contain myself if I allow myself to feel. “What. Did. You. Do?” She sits there. Trying to stop her crying. My world narrows down to myself and my wife.

Paul doesn’t exist.

Lisa doesn’t exist.

The world…doesn’t exist.

It’s just me.

And my wife.

“I thought I was helping,” she finally says, between breaths. I keep looking at her. I’m in interrogation mode.

I keep looking at her.

She looks up at me. Sadness. Fear. “When I told you, that I had made mistakes, too, Jim, this is what I was talking about. This is what I would change if I could go back in time. You kept thinking it was your fault our marriage started to deteriorate. It wasn’t. It was my fault. And mine alone. You were a victim of me trying to do a good deed. And I didn’t know how to change it once it happened.”

Silence. I keep looking at Charlotte. Trying to see her point of view.

And failing.

“Last Saturday, when I told you that Lisa and I had sex with each other, while you were on deployments, I thought that now would be a good time to let you know that I knew about the affair,” she says, drying her eyes. “That’s why I suggested a three way with Lisa. But you shot it down. You were protecting a secret that wasn’t a secret. But I couldn’t just blurt out that I knew about it.”

“What?” Paul says, astonished, to Lisa. “You and Char were having sex with each other?”

“What were you expecting, Paul,” I say, finding an outlet for my emotions, irritation lacing my voice, turning towards him, “that they were staying home crocheting quilts for us?” Who the fuck does he think he is, getting mad about his wife having sex with my wife while we were on deployments. “Why can you fuck women, while we are on deployments, but you can’t fuck your own wife, in your own home?”

“Once my issues started, Jim,” he says, “I couldn’t have sex at all, period.”

“So, what, exactly, are these issues, Paul?” I fling at him, not even bothering to hide my emotions from him.

He looks at me. Hard. There’s a war going on in his head. Fear. Scared. Angst. Anxiety. Depression. Shame. Fear.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, head down, deeply afraid. “I can’t tell you.”

Enough of this bullshit! I want some fucking answers!

“Can’t? Or won’t?” I say with some acid.

“It’s the same thing,” he says.

“Bullshit. Can’t is something is preventing you from telling me. Won’t is you refusing to tell me. Which is it?” I say, standing up, looking at him.

He looks at me. Shame. Terror. Fear. Angst. Anxiety. Depression. Fear. Above all else, fear.

Lisa looks between Paul and myself.

Charlotte is crying into her hands again.

Fear, laced with terror, is all through his body right now.

Anger is immolating mine.

“Won’t,” he says softly, as tears start to fall from his eyes, fear consuming him.

“Congratulations,” I sneer at him, standing up. “That decision just cost you our friendship. The decision that you and Lisa made may have cost you your son.”

“Jim,” Lisa says, shocked. Really, Lisa? You were expecting tea and crumpets? “That’s not fair.”

“Fair? FAIR?” I shout at her. “Is it fair that your husband can’t have sex with you anymore? Is it fair that my marriage suffered because of our affair? Is it fair that you may have ruined your relationship with your son? Is it fair that you are carrying my baby? What, in this entire mess, has been fair?

Silence.

I walk towards the door.

“Jimmy,” Paul says, softly, putting his left hand on my shoulder as I pass him, desperation waring with fear, “please, don’t do this.”

“Take your fucking hand off my fucking shoulder, Paul,” I growl at him. Paul flinches and removes his hand from my shoulder. Desperation. Fear. Despair. Sadness.

“Jim,” Lisa says, aghast.

“Shut up,” I snarl at her, resuming my walk towards the door. “Charlotte, I need some space. I’m going to pack a bag and go to a hotel.” I slam the door behind me as I leave.

I walk down the front steps. My pace increases as my heart breaks. As the tears start to flow, I break into a run. Running as fast as I am crying. I get home and go to the bedroom. I pack a quick bag and run back to the car.

I get in and take off. As I drive past Paul’s house, I mentally flip it off and destroy it with a nuke.

Bastards.

All of them.

Fuck them all!

A few minutes later, my phone starts to blow up.

I ignore it.

Text messages.

Phone calls.

Text messages.

Phone calls.

“LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE,” I scream at my phone.

Text messages.

Phone calls.

Text messages.

Phone calls.

I reach over and turn it off.

F-fu-fuckers.

Everything that I thought I was responsible for, was really my best friend, his wife and, fuck me, my wife, pulling my strings and betraying me.

What a fucking joke I am.

The weight of the world comes crashing onto my shoulders as I start to cry. I pull over into a parking lot.

And cry myself out.

As my tears fade away, I realize I am in the hotel parking lot.

I sit in the parking lot and try to compose myself.

I reach into the glove compartment and pull out some napkins. I wipe one all over my face. Drying my face off. I sit in my car. Hands gripping the steering wheel. All I want to do is go into combat.

I want to face as many enemies as possible and kill each and every single one of them. I want to stab them. I want to shoot them. I want to dismember them! I want to wash the world in fire and bring it to an end!

A pigeon lands on the hood of my car. I sit there and watch it. My anger burning through me. Arcs of fire descend on it, in my mind. Immolating it. It ruffles its feathers and starts walking around the hood. Head bobbing forward and backward with each step it takes. It gets to the middle of the hood, turns away from me, and craps on the hood.

Like a whirlpool opening up in the ocean, I feel my anger drain away. The fires immolating the pigeon disappear.

I start to giggle.

Then I start to laugh.

I’m laughing so fucking hard, right now, it echoes in my car.

It scares the pigeon away.

I can’t even breathe properly.

My world is literally falling to pieces and God sends a pigeon to crap on my car, to literally show me how crappy my life is right now.

And fuck me, it’s funny!

Fuck.

I take a deep breath and look at myself in the mirror.

I’ve looked better. But this is as good as it’s going to get.

I grab a napkin and get out of the car.

“Alright, you little shit monster,” I say, after the pigeon, “you did your duty.” I wipe the pigeon crap off my car. I grab my suitcase, close and lock the door, and head into the hotel.

“Welcome to Double Tree,” the clerk behind the counter says, “do you have a reservation.”

“No, I just need a room for the night,” I say. The clerk helps me and gives me my key. I head up to the room. I get there. I put the suitcase in the closet and sit on the bed.

Staring into space.

I am just numb. And drained. My anger is gone. I’m too hurt to care. I’m not even in shock, anymore. Or maybe I am still in shock. I don’t know. I am just numb. I turn on my phone.

DING
DING
DING
DING

Message after message after message.

34 text messages from Charlotte, Paul and Lisa.

Fuck them!

I send a text message:

Josh – don’t tell anyone you’ve heard from me.

I’m in trouble and don’t know what to do.

Please come to the Double Tree on Main.

Room 434. DO NOT LET ANYONE KNOW

YOU’VE HEARD FROM ME.

<send>

DING

OMW

I sit on the edge of the bed, staring out into nothing.

Eventually, there is a knock on the door.

I go to open the door. It’s Josh.

“Jim,” he asks, with concern, “what’s going on?”

As soon as the door closes, the wall that I sealed my emotions behind, starts to crack.

My emotions start to leak through that wall.

That crack grows into fractures.

My emotions start to overwhelm me.

The fractures lace throughout my being.

Me chest starts to hurt.

My eyes start watering.

And I stand there, crying.

Wailing.

My soul is bleeding out.

And I don’t know how to stop it.

Josh hugs me close to him.

And I collapse into his arms crying.
 

Sklar

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Chapter 3​



Psy ops training kicks in.

I’m on a bed. Josh is…underneath me?

I’m in Josh’s arms. I’m on my left side, curled up on his body. I must have cried myself to sleep in his arms.

“You feeling better, Jim?” Josh asks, as he shifts his arms, as I sit up.

“No,” I croak, as I swing my feet onto the floor. And just sit there.

Silence envelops us.

Josh moves behind me, stretching his legs out to either side of me. He wraps his arms around me and slowly pulls me into a hug. My insides are churning.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. Josh pulls me in, and I feel his caring and friendship wrap around me, settling me down, warming me from the inside out.

“Start at the beginning,” he says, quietly.

“Four score and twenty years ago,” I say, lamely. Fuck, even I know that was lame. I’m deflecting. Because the truth hurts so fucking much. I take a deep breath and tell Josh everything. And I mean, every…fucking… thing.

The texting with Lisa. The sexting with Lisa. The affair with Lisa. I go into detail on how it started. I talk about how my marriage started to suffer and me not seeing it. Then I tell him about Matt showing up at my front door. The blackmail. The blowjobs. The rim jobs. How scared I was. How turned on I was. The submission to him. Waiting naked for him on my knees. The orgasms. How good it felt. How natural it felt. The three way. How I came to grips with it. How I came to accept it. In only five days. How I looked forward to it. I tell him about the conversation I had with Charlotte about our marriage and the mistakes that were made. I tell him about the last failed attempt to have sex with Lisa. Matt’s photographic memory. How relieved I was that the affair was over. How much I was looking forward to sex with Charlotte and Matt. Then the sex I had with Paul.

I don’t leave a single detail out of any of the past three years. Tears start running down my face again. I tell Josh about Charlotte being pregnant. Lisa being pregnant. Matt running out of the house. The fight I had with all three of them. That Matt may be the father of Charlotte’s baby.

And I can’t go any further. I’m sobbing between my story telling and my voice hurts. And all through this, I’ve only felt caring and friendship from Josh. I slowly get myself back under control. I tap him on his arms and he releases me and scootches back a bit on the bed. I turn around and face him. Sitting cross legged, hanging my head down. Breathing deeply. Josh reaches out and places his hands on my knees, palms up.

I put my hands on top of his. And just squeeze. I squeeze like I am choking the life out of my problems. And Josh allows me to do that. Finally, I squeeze one last time, breathing in deeply and relax. Still holding his hands.

“Thank you,” I whisper to him.

“You’re welcome, Jim,” he says, gently squeezing my hands back.

“What do I do, Josh?” I ask, lifting my head and looking him in the eyes. “What do I do?”

“You do what needs to be done, James,” he says, softly but strongly.

“Which is what?” I ask, plaintively. “I’ve made so many bad decisions. What’s the right one?”

“It’s not about decisions, Jim,” he says, softly. “It’s about doing what needs to be done.”

“Which is what?” I ask, again. “There’s one, maybe two, children that are mine. How can I trust myself, if I am so easily manipulated? How can I trust Charlotte? How can I trust any of them? What do I tell others? People will think that Charlotte’s baby is mine and that Lisa’s baby is Paul’s. But that’s not the truth. Matt could be the father. I can’t abandon my responsibility to either of them.”

“You just answered your own question, Jim,” Josh says, softly, looking into my eyes. “Responsibility. But you are overlooking a few things, too.”

“What else am I overlooking?” I ask, running everything through my head.

“The responsibility isn’t all yours. You’re not in this alone. There’re other people involved. Charlotte. Lisa. Paul. Matt. I understand that you were hit with this and overwhelmed, and the argument erupted, and you left. That’s a very human thing to do. You can’t ignore what’s in front of you. All of you need to sit down and talk,” Josh says, gently squeezing my hands. “They, too, have responsibility.”

“I wasn’t hit with this, Josh,” I say, with some bitterness. “I was ambushed.”

“Ambushed?” he says with a quirky smile. “Did they knock you out and take you prisoner? Did they corner you and trap you?”

“No,” I say. “You know what I mean.”

“James,” he says softy, “if it all went down as you said, Lisa and Paul did it in the most non-threatening manner possible. They invited you to their home. They didn’t accuse you of anything. They made no threatening move, whatsoever. From what you said, it all started to go south with Matt burst in. Not that I am blaming Matt. Or anyone, for that matter. How else could they have told you?”

I nod my head as Josh talks to me. He is making sense.

“Yeah, but…” I say.

“There is no ‘but, Jim,” he says, with a smile.

“But, there…” I start to say.

“There is no ‘but,’ Jim,” Josh repeats, stronger. “You can’t make a responsible decision in the dark. You must talk to them. All of them.”

“It’s too painful, Josh,” I say. “I know if I sit down with them, especially Paul, there will be another fight. And it may not be just verbal.” Josh cocks his head at that.

“You’d attack Paul?” he asks, with concern.

“This all started with him, Josh,” I say, with a little heat. “Whatever happened to him, to affect him so, whatever that was, is what kicked this off. Ultimately, he is to blame.”

Josh looks at me, hard. I don’t like what he is about to say. I know I won’t.

“Okay,” he says, slowly, “let’s play ‘The Blame Game.”

“It’s not a…” I start to say, as Josh squeezes my hands.

“Stop,” he says, strongly and I do. I’m not going to argue with him. I asked him for help when I needed it most and felt lost. Hell, I am still lost. “Whatever happened to Paul, is what kicked this off. Let’s blame Paul. (I nod at his reasoning). Paul then talked with Lisa and explained whatever it was to her. Lisa, for whatever reason, agreed with Paul. So, now, let’s blame both of them. (Again, I nod at his reasoning). For whatever reason, they brought in Charlotte. So, now Charlotte knows and decides to help them. Let’s just blame Charlotte for the whole mess, because, honestly, she could have said ‘No,’ at any time, and stopped it from occurring. (I nod because that does make sense, too. All three are to blame). So really, it’s all her fault. (Wait, it’s not all Charlotte’s fault). Stop, Jim. Listen. So, now, really, its Charlotte’s fault, for trying to help her friends. (No, that doesn’t sound right). Don’t argue, James, listen. (I nod my head). Then we come to you: Mr. Upstanding. The good guy. Lisa starts texting you. So, really, let’s blame her only. (But). Listen, (hard hand squeeze) James. You say no, as a dutiful husband should. Then, with Charlotte’s help, the sexting begins. So, now, it’s back to being Charlotte’s fault. Because, without her help, they never would have known to do that. It never would have happened. (But) Stop, James, listen to me. Suddenly, the sexting is taken up a notch by playing on your ego about your cock size. Right away, you said yes! There was no saying ‘no.’ You literally went over there to fuck Lisa. So, ultimately, really, you’re to blame. Because you could have said no, at any time, and none of this would have happened. No affair. No ruined marriage. No babies. Well, maybe one baby, as the birth control was faulty. So, tell me, Captain Clinton, with all this information, who’s ultimately to blame?”

Fuck. Why did he have to frame it that way?

Because it’s the only way you’d listen to him, Jim. As if it was a psy ops mission.

You’re back! Where have you been?

Trying to get things under control in here. It’s a mess. Listen to his reasoning.


Sigh.

“I hear you, Josh,” I say, “I really do. But it’s hard to disconnect myself that way. I do feel responsible. I do. You’re absolutely right. All I had to say was ‘no.’ So, yes, I can accept my blame in this. And, you’re right, there is plenty of blame to go around. However, you can’t deny, this all started with Paul.”

“That sounds suspiciously like a ‘but’, Jim,” Josh says, with a bit of a smile. “It doesn’t matter where it started. It honestly doesn’t. You have to believe that. What matters is what was done. Do you agree that it all could have stopped with any one of you saying ‘no.”

“Yes,” I say, slowly nodding.

“Then leave it there,” Josh says. “Don’t create more headaches for yourself.”

“It doesn’t sit right, Josh,” I say, my chest knotting up.

“You’ve been on missions where things didn’t sit right, Jim,” Josh says. “You did what the mission required you to do. Do the same thing here.”

“I’ll try, Josh,” I sigh. “It’s going to be hard, though.”

“Of course, it will be,” Josh says. “I don’t want to make things more difficult, but there are other things you need to consider, too.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Potential felony conviction charges,” he says, looking directly at me.

“For what??” I ask shocked. “I could lose rank for the affair but having an affair is not a felony crime.”

“Not you, Jim,” Josh says, earnestly. “Matt.”

“Matt? For wha…” I say, as it dawns on me. “The blackmail.”

“Correct,” Josh says, nodding his head.

“But...but…” I stammer, “out of everyone involved with this, he was the only honest one.”

“The honest one?” Josh repeats, dryly.

“Yes. He thought he was defending his father. He did what you and I or anyone else in our department would have done,” I say. “He took the information at hand and used it, to his advantage.”

“We have the cloak of governmental authority behind us, Jim,” Josh says. “It’s part of our job. He took that information and broke the law when he blackmailed you. This isn’t a porn, Jim. There could be consequences if anyone else found out.”

“The only one who knows it was blackmail, is you,” I say. “Plus, now that the ultimate truth has been revealed, there was no affair. The only one who didn’t know that was myself.”

“And Matt,” Josh says, looking at me. “It doesn’t matter that, ultimately, it was only you who thought that. Criminally, he used information that he got to blackmail you into being his fuck toy. To an outsider looking in, he broke the law.”

I sit there in silence, looking at Josh. I can’t get a read on him.

“What are you going to do?” I ask him, dreading the answer. Could, no, would Josh report Matt to the authorities? I can’t see him doing that. Not after he caught me half-naked in the map room.

“I am doing something about it, Jim,” he says, with a slow smile. “I’m telling you to take care of it. His journals. If he has that written down, in those journals, that could be used against him.”

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe out. I remember the conversation I had with myself about this very subject. But Matt went to UCLA with Charlotte, just after that, and Paul stayed at my place. I got distracted.

Okay, if that’s what you want to call that.

Shut the fuck up!


“Look, Jim,” Josh says, gently, “I don’t want to see anything bad happen to Matt, either. To be honest, I might have done the very same thing at his age, if I had the chance. Just talk to him and get this taken care of.”

“I will, Josh,” I say, relieved. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” he says. “One more thing, for now.”

“Such as?” I ask. For now, he says.

“Why not get an abortion?” he asks. “That would solve the problem in a couple of ways.”

“No,” I say, immediately, blanching. “No! That…that would be wrong. Murder.”

“Huh?” Josh says. I actually caught him off guard with that.

“Josh,” I say, slowly. “I’m Catholic. So is Charlotte. Actually, so are Paul and Lisa. And Matt. Life begins at conception. Abortion would be murder to us.”

“Are you sure Chalotte would agree with you?” Josh asks.

“Absolutely,” I say.

“I see,” Josh says, slowly. “I’m not going to argue your religious beliefs, Jim. Play it safe and talk to her about it. Make sure she is on the same page as you are. I only suggested it as an alternative.”

“I understand that Josh, and thank you for the suggestion,” I say, “but it’s not one that is acceptable. Isn’t abortion against your religion? I just realized that I don’t know if you are religious or agnostic.”

“Honestly,” he smiles ruefully, “as a gay man, abortion is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. As for my religious views, I’m actually a Druid.”

“Huh?” I say, intellectually. “Like from Dungeons & Dragons?”

“Yes, Jim,” he says, smiling. “I’m actually on a magical quest to find The Man That Is A Lie and the Catalyst.”

My brain breaks.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Josh,” I say, in a small voice, hunching down. “I don’t understand.”

Josh let’s go of my hands and reaches out to pull me into a hug. “No, Jim,” he says softly, “I’m sorry. I played into your confusion, when you were vulnerable, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, my friend.” He squeezes me one more time and let’s go. “Technically,” he says, holding my hands again, “I was raised Christian. But my true beliefs are that of a Druid. I can go into the long, sordid, history of it if you want.”

“No,” I say, quickly. Josh smiles at that. He was expecting it. “No, I’m good. I just can’t process at this point.”

“I understand,” he says, smiling. “So, are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” I say. Then sigh. “And no. It’s one thing to sit here and talk one on one to you about this. But when I get home, it’s still going to be raw.”

“Again, that’s just being human, Jim,” he says with care. “Can I ask you two very hard questions?”

“Of course,” I say, immediately. How can I say no to him?

“Do you still love Charlotte?” he asks, quietly.

FLASHBACK

I see her there, in the cafeteria at college, talking to her friends and laughing.

FLASHBACK

I am walking with her, in the rain, back to her place, after getting off the bus, from our date.

FLASHBACK

I am kissing her at our marriage ceremony.

IMAGINATION

I imagine her plotting with Lisa and Paul. Cackling with joy.

IMAGINATION

I imagine her, looking at me as I sleep, laughing at how easy it was to manipulate me.

IMAGINATION

I imagine her backstabbing me.

“I…I don’t know,” I say, softly, my chest in turmoil.

“That’s a yes, then,” he says, smiling.

“What?” I say, shaking the dottle from my brain. “How can you say that?”

“Again, Jim,” he says, smiling, “keep it simple. A yes would be a yes. A no would be a no. But an I don’t know, is a yes. Because you didn’t say no.”

“Or I could be heading that way, Josh,” I say.

“Are you?” he asks, looking into my eyes.

“What’s the second question?” I ask, avoiding his last one.

“Do you love Paul?” he asks. YES! NO! FUCKING BASTARD! “Wow, all of that flashed over your face, Jim. You need to sort it out. Without resorting to violence.”

“I’m sorry, Josh,” I say, breathing hard. All three of those reactions hit me in the gut.

“Don’t apologize, Jim,” Josh says, with care. “Such extreme reactions show there is something there. You can’t have one without the other.”

“Again, logically,” I say, “I see what you’re saying. But emotionally, it’s a wrecking ball.”

“And it’s going to be. C’mon, soldier,” he says, getting up off the bed, “let’s get you home.”

Home.

Just the sound of the word fills me with hope and dread. But I can’t stay here, hiding. I glance at the clock: 2:43 AM.

“How long was I asleep?” I ask Josh, getting off the bed myself, and going to get the suitcase.

“About an hour,” he says, coming up to me and placing a hand on my shoulder. Fuck, we talked a long time. Three years’ worth of confession’s takes a while to unload.

We head down the hall to the elevator and call for it. As the door opens, there is an employee there. He looks at us. I recognize him.

It’s Angel!

All three of us stare at each other.

Angel moving his head back and forth between Josh and myself. Us looking at Angel.

It’s not until the elevator door starts to close again, that we move.

“Jim! Josh!” Angel exclaims. “What are you two doing here?” Then I see the wheels turning in his head as he looks between the two of us.

“No,” both Josh and I say at the same time, laughing. God, that felt good. An honest laugh.

“We didn’t come here for a hook up, Angel,” Josh says, as he leans against the wall. I lean on the wall next to him, facing Angel. My suitcase beside me. The elevator door closes. I hit the button for the lobby.

Angel spreads his feet apart as his cock starts to grow down his left leg. He’s obviously not wearing underwear. And it clearly shows in his grey slacks. It’s obvious what’s on his mind.

“Remembering?” I smile at Angel. He keeps looking at me, but he does blush.

“I, uh, dream about it,” he says, taking his right hand placing it on the back of his head, embarrassed. “You’re the only one who’s ever been able to take me all the way, Jim. Cash and I talked a few times.”

“How is Cash?” Josh asks.

“He’s doing well,” Angel says. “Why are you guys here?”

“Jim’s place had a small water leak,” Josh says, as the doors open up to the lobby. “It was good to see you again, Angel.”

“It was good to see you two, too,” he says, as we all exit the elevator. He walks with us to the front desk. “I’ll check them out, Gloria,” he says to the woman at the desk. She smiles and heads to the back office. Angel goes through the checkout routine. “There you go, Jim.”

“There’s no charge?” I ask confused, looking at the bill.

“Consider it payback,” he says, with a smile.

“Thank you, Angel,” I say, as I grab my suitcase and head to the car with Josh. He actually parked next to me.

“Listen, Jim,” he says, turning to me, “you don’t need to come into the office today. I’ll let the major know that I authorized it. He may ask me why, though. What do you want me to say?”

Sigh.

“You might as well tell him that we’re pregnant,” I say, with resignation. “And that we’re processing. It’s going to come out, regardless. And it’s better if we control the narrative. I don’t know if Charlotte told Lisa and Paul that we’re pregnant. So that may come as a shock to Paul. You might as well talk to Paul, too, if you get the chance. Let him know what I told you. Keep the part out about Matt blackmailing me, though. Fuck, it’s like we’re back in elementary school, and you have to babysit us. I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to make your life more complicated.”

“Hey, at least I’m not dealing with the fallout from Karl, still. That’s the major for that one,” Josh laughs. “As long as we can keep things civil, we are good to go. No violence, Jim. I mean it. There’s too much at stake here.”

“Too much at stake?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”

“You two, outside of Major Rababbi, are the most senior officers in the office. You actually have been in the office longer than the major has. I don’t count as I just transferred in. We can’t have what’s going on with you two, affect the morale in the office and the mission we are currently working on. We have enough of that with Meyers company. People are going to notice you two aren’t as tight as you used to be. For now, we may be able to play it off as both of your families are pregnant at the same time. Keep it professional, Jim,” Josh says, looking at me.

“I will try,” I say, taking a deep breath. I reach out to hug him. Tight. “Thank you.”

“I’m here to help, Jim. Never forget that,” he says, hugging me just as tight. “Now, go home to your wife, soldier. She needs you.”

My wife.

“Yes, sir,” I say, with a smile. Then get into my car.
 

Sklar

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Chapter 4​

I drive up the road to my house. I can see it and Paul’s house coming up. The lights are on in Paul’s house. When I pass it by, this time, I don’t mentally nuke it. But, God, I want too. My emotions simmering as I pass it by. Regardless of what I told Josh, and he did make good, valid, points, I still resent Paul.

As I pull into my driveway, I see the lights on in the living room. I park and sit in the car for a moment.

You know, you’re going to have to go in at some point.

I know. I know. It was one thing to talk to Josh about it. Now, I am coming face to face with the reality of it.

You can’t wall off your emotions, this time. If you are going to process this, you have to process this.

I know. But it hurts, damn it.

You think I can’t tell that? When you hurt, I hurt, too. Now, get out of the car and go inside.


Sighing, I take the advice and get out of the car. I grab my suitcase and head up the sidewalk. I head up the stairs and to the door. Charlotte is in the living room. I open the door and walk in and close the door.

There she is.

My wife.

She is looking at me.

She hasn’t changed from earlier.

Her hair is a mess.

Her eyes are red.

Her nose is red.

She’s always hated the color red.

Love. Sorrow. Regret. Remorse. Love.

All radiate out from her.

Hold out your arms, you idiot.

I hold them out towards her, and she runs to me.

As she closes the distance, tears start to run down my face. She starts crying as she gets closer. She runs into my arms and hugs me tight as I hug her tight.

Crying into each other’s arms.

Sinking onto the floor, into a mass of tears.

We both hold each other, crying.

It’s like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

The more I cry, the more the tension leaves my body.

“Do you still love Charlotte?” he asks, quietly.

I do. God, I love this woman so much. It’s not about love.

It’s about trust. But, God forgive me, how can I love someone, but not trust them?

You trust the other men and women in your unit when you’re on a mission.

That’s totally different. We all work together for a common goal, the mission, whatever that mission is.

Your mission, right now, is your marriage and your child.

It’s not the same. I’m not sleeping with anyone from the office.

Oh, really:
An image of Paul, naked and being the little spoon as we sleep.

That’s not fair and that’s never happening again!

When you and Paul are on a mission again, will you trust him to have your back?



Will you?



Fucker, yes, I will. Because the mission calls for it. But I want nothing to do with him outside of that. We are done, as far as I am concerned. And how does that help me with Charlotte?

Maybe if you stop bawling like a baby, you can actually talk to each other and try to work on that.

That was uncalled for!

Then prove me wrong.

Fucker


FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK FUCK AND FUCK!!!!

First you want me to process this, then you tell me to not process this. LET ME FUCKING PROCESS THIS!!

Then do it.

I’m trying!


“I’m sorry, Jim,” Charlotte says, interrupting my argument with myself. Fuck, that sounds so insane. “I’m so, so, sorry.” She holds on tighter to me, as I hold her tighter, too. Regret just seems to emanate from her.

“C’mon, Charlotte,” I say, slowly releasing her. “Let’s get up from the floor.” We both stand up. I help her up and she still is holding on to me. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“No,” her voice cracks. The top of her head is just under my chin. I hold her tightly. I bend my knees a little and pick her up. Cradling her in my arms. Her right ear is on my left shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” I say, as I walk down the hall. She just nods her head against my chest. “I’ll call Stan and let him know you’re not coming into work today.”

“I already did, earlier,” she murmurs, as sleep starts to overtake her. I walk to the bed. I sit on the bed, with her still in my arms. With my right arm, I pull down the comforter. Then I gently slide Charlotte into bed and pull the comforter over her. She’s so tired.

I look at her.

My wife.

She’s on her back.

Her eyes are red and puffy.

Her nose is red from the crying.

Her face looks so pale and gaunt.

She looks so weak and vulnerable.

“I love you, James,” she whispers so softly, I can barely hear it. But I feel the force of her words. My eyes start to water, and my chest tightens up.

I get down on my knees, next to the bed, sniffling, “I love you too,” I whisper back to her and kiss her lightly on her cheek.

She sighs and falls asleep.

I stand up. My tears are slowly running down my face. I bring up my right arm and wipe them away. I look down at Charlotte. She doesn’t look as gaunt or pale, anymore. She’s breathing deeply and is resting more comfortably, now.

I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall. I stop at the door to my office and look into it. This will be the baby’s room, now. I can keep my workstation where it is. Put the crib over there. Repaint the room into a more cheerful color. Blue or pink. Paint some clouds on the ceiling. Hang a mobile over the crib. Put a changing station over there. Fuck, we’ll have to put carpet down. Can’t have the kid crawling around on hard wood floors. We’re going to have to child proof the entire house.

Fuck.

I walk back to the living room.

I never wanted to be a father.

I kept telling myself, and others, it was because I didn’t want the kid to grow up without a father, as I did. Which is true!

“Yes, Jim,” he says, smiling. “I’m actually on a magical quest to find The Man That Is A Lie and the Catalyst.”

“Thanks, Josh,” I think sarcastically.

Sigh.

But it’s also a lie.

I flop myself on the couch, hugging a pillow to my chest.

The truth is, I don’t know how to be a father. My father was a rapist. No one even knows who he is…was…whatever the fucking tense is I should be using. Mother was attacked from behind and knocked out. She never saw him. How the fuck am I supposed to set the example from that?

Grandpa is a great man. But he wasn’t a father. He was a grandfather. Sure, we would play catch. We would work on cars and tractors together. We would go hunting. But he wasn’t “Father.” I love him so much! But he couldn’t fill that void: Father/Son Day at the baseball game. Father/Son Day with the Boy Scouts. Father/Son Day going fishing. But everyone knew he was my grandfather, not my father.

What do I know about being a father?

Nothing.

And that terrifies me.

What if I make a mistake?

What if I miss him saying his first word: “Mama.”

What if I miss him taking his first step?

What if I miss picking him up when he falls for the first time?

What if I can’t make it to his first baseball game?

What if I miss his first home run?

What type of father is that? With my job, those are all possibilities. Hell, I may not come home from my next mission! I could die before he is born. Then he’d be wondering what kind of man I was.

What right do I have to bring a child into this world with that kind of possibility?

I don’t have that right. But here we are.

Charlotte and I talked about kids when we started dating. I told her my views and she seemed relieved. She didn’t want any either. It was such an improvement over Veronica! She kept harping about having kids, now that I think about it. I kept saying no. She would drop it for a while. Then bring it back up. I was already in the military. My career was just starting. I didn’t want to be a family man. She knew that! It finally got too much, and I made my career a priority. I broke it off with her and never looked back.

That’s where Charlotte was such a better fit for me. For us! She didn’t want children, either. Carlos told her that when they got married, he expected her to quit her job, move to Spain with him and start a family. She told him that wasn’t going to happen and immediately broke it off with him. She didn’t want that. She was career focused, too.

And all the best laid plans, go out the door, because something happened with the prescription.

Fuck

I look at the door.

This is normally the time that Charlotte goes to work. Normally, I’d be stripping down for Matt to arrive.

Matt.

Fuck. Now, he’s Matt. Not Sir.

And thank you, Jesus, for that!

What do you mean?

Do you know how crowded and annoying that shit was? Sir is approaching the door. Sir wants me naked on the floor. Sir said this. Sir said that. Sir wants me to deep throat his massive, superior, cock. Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir! Fuck. When you call him Sir, verbally, that was one thing. Mentally, it was like someone tapping their pen on the desk, in here. All. The. Fucking. Time.

So, you what, fixed me? You can do that?

No, I didn’t fix you. I can’t change who you are. I’m just a part of you that you talk to. Since there is no more blackmail, there is no need for you to keep thinking of yourself as sub to him. You recognized that, subconsciously, right away. He was Matt from that point on. You just stopped calling him Sir, one hundred percent of the time. In here. Verbally, go for it.

So, I’m NOT sub to him?

Do you want to be?


“The consequences of that, Sir,” I continue, “is the affair I was having with Lisa, made life for you and Paul, better. You said so yourself, that first night. The consequences of that, Sir, is me, now being your fuck toy and mentor. The consequences of that, Sir, is you get to live your fantasy. The consequences of that, Sir, is you got to have the three-way. The consequences of that, Sir, is you are now more comfortable with the true size of your cock. The consequences of my sucking your cock, Sir, is Char and I starting to talk to each other again. The consequences of that, Sir, is we are starting to grow back together. The consequences of that, Sir, is the sex has really gotten better. The pros outweigh the cons, at this point.”



Fuck, if my life improved because of it, then, when there was no stress, can it keep improving now? Will there be more pros than cons with what is going on now? The fact of the matter is that I was enjoying it, once I came to peace with it. I was looking forward to it. I was trading Lisa for Matt. And I was happy with that.

So, do I want to still be sub to Matt?

Kkkiiinnndddaaa…

Will it be the same if there is no blackmail? Will it be just as fun? Will it be just as relaxing? How would that even work?

ME: Hey there, Matt. Can I just get on my knees and worship your cock for hours at a time and then have you fuck me with it?

MATT: Okay.

I know that’s what he wants. I was wanting it, too. But it doesn’t have that same…mental…quality to it, either.

YYYYYAAAAAWWWWWNNNNN

Lord, now it’s all catching up to me. I grab the blanket off the back of the couch, cover myself with it, and fall asleep.
 

Sklar

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Chapter 5​



Psy ops training kicks in.

I wake up on the couch, taking in my surroundings. Charlotte is still sleeping. No one else is around. I open my eyes and sit up.

“Feed me,” my stomach grumbles. Fuck, when did I eat last? Lunch, yesterday? Fuck. No wonder it’s grumbling.

Sigh.

I go into the kitchen. Thankfully, I still have some chicken cordon bleu as leftovers. Jesus, that was just two days ago that Charlotte and Matt came back home. And one day ago that…fuck...quit dwelling on that. I put the chicken into the microwave.

But, how can I not dwell on it? It’s what I do for a fucking living.

“The responsibility isn’t all yours. You’re not in this alone. There’re other people involved. Charlotte. Lisa. Paul. Matt. I understand that you were hit with this and overwhelmed, and the argument erupted, and you left. That’s a very human thing to do. You can’t ignore what’s in front of you. All of you have to sit down and talk,” Josh says, gently squeezing my hands. “They, too, have responsibility.”

Some responsibility. Out of all of us, Paul, Paul, is the one that can walk away free. It’s my baby that Lisa is carrying. It could either be mine or Matt’s baby, that Charlotte is carrying. What responsibility will Paul have?

PAUL: Well, it’s been fun but I’m out of here. See ya! As he drives away into the sunset, leaving me with two pregnant women.

Ding!

I take my food out of the microwave and head to the table and sit down.

Honestly, I can’t see him doing that. Paul loves Lisa. He loves Matt. He is a protector. He’s a momma bear when he sees his cubs in danger. When we were ambushed in Iraq, he had just knocked back the insurgent he was fighting and saw Robbins, who was a corporal, at the time, on the ground, surrounded by three other insurgents. I was fighting two of my own. I thought Robbins was going to die that day. Paul turned his back on the guy he was fighting, and that insurgent slashed at his back with a knife, as Paul drew his pistol and shot two of them. Robbins shot the insurgent that Paul initially was fighting. Robbins then turned around and shot the third one. Paul’s flack jacket protected him from the knife slash from his original opponent.

Paul is a responsible man.

This situation makes no sense to me.

This isn’t like Paul. What the fuck happened to him, three years ago?

I don’t want to lose my best friend.

“Do you love Paul?” he asks.



“Do you love Paul?” he asks.

Yes.

As tears start to fall. Regardless of what’s been going on with me, with the blackmail, the blowjob with Angel, the sex with Paul, I still feel as if I am straight. But, fuck, Paul would be the man I would want to be with, for the rest of my life, if I was gay.

And it hurts, man.

It

fucking

hurts.

I just sit there. At the table. Fists clenched. As I silently cry.

I wipe my face as I get my emotions under control. Charlotte is up.

Fuck, I’m crying about my loving Paul and there’s my wife waking up. I get up and walk down to the bedroom. There is no doubt in my mind that I love Charlotte.

None.

My heart aches when I think of her. Her role in this whole mess.

Why? Why did she do this?

Fuck.

If my emotions are all over the place with Paul, they are literally all tied up in a knot for Charlotte. Everything is being bound up in love. But can I love her enough, to forgive this?

I don’t know.

“I…I don’t know,” I say, softly, my chest in turmoil.

“That’s a yes, then,” he says, smiling.

“What?” I say, shaking the dottle from my brain. “How can you say that?”

“Again, Jim,” he says, smiling, “keep it simple. A yes would be a yes. A no would be a no. But an I don’t know, is a yes. Because you didn’t say no.”


Can it be that simple?

Pushing that thought to the back, I enter the bedroom and stop at the doorway.

Charlotte is sitting up in bed, looking at me. Love. Anxiety. Wariness. Regret. Love. She has more color in her face than last night. Sleep did her some good.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her, my own feelings clashing with my rational brain. I want to go to her. I want to hold her.

But…I can’t.

Not yet.

“Like hell.” Regret. Anxiety. Remorse. Despair. Love. Guilt. Guilt. Love. GUILT! LOVE! “I destroyed our marriage,” she starts crying. “I don’t know what to do.” Anguish. Loss. Fear. Heart ache. Love. As with my emotions, when Josh showed up at the hotel room, Charlotte’s emotions break free and flood over her. She’s trying to fight them and hold them in but she is drowning in them.

I run to her side and hold her. I start crying, too.

“Let it out, Charlotte,” I say to her as I hold her, crying, myself. “Just cry. I’m here. It will kill you, if you keep it in.” I hold her close to me, gently rocking her.

She does let it out. She’s crying harder than I’ve ever seen her cry. Her hands form fists and hit the bed over and over and over. Her voice raises in volume. And still she cries. And I hold her. Crying myself. As she keeps crying, her emotions flood out of her. The first to go is anxiety. Her crying continues. Despair is the next to go, as her fists stop hitting the bed. Her crying starts to slow down and it’s a mix of regret and remorse. She grabs my shirt, as her crying starts to end. All that’s left is love, guilt, love, guilt. It’s still there, inside of her, but it’s not as crippling as it was when she started.

And I hold her. I hold her close. Being her rock, as she was mine, when the blackmail first started. She becomes more relaxed as her crying stops. She curls onto my body, as I rearrange myself, to make her more comfortable. I pull the blanket over her, as she cries herself out.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her, as her breathing stabilizes. She’s curled up on me. Her hands still grabbing onto my shirt. Love. Guilt. Love. Guilt. Love. All war in her.

“Like hell,” she croaks out. I hug her close to me. “You must hate me.” She starts sniffling again.

“Hey, if I hated you, would I be here?” I whisper into her ear, then, gently, kiss the top of her head. She starts to gently cry again. Love. Guilt. Relief. Love. Guilt. Relief. Love. Relief.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” she whispers, as I feel her tears on my shirt.

How do I answer that? I don’t know. I was willing to fight for my marriage when I thought it was lost because of the affair. Because of my actions. How do I answer that when…

Pidgeon crapping on my hood.

A slight smile slowly works itself across my lips.

“Well,” I say, after a few moments, “how about you take a shower. I hate to say this, but you stink. I mean, really, Charlotte. Phew!” I wave my hand in front of my nose.

“Ass,” she says weakly hitting my chest with a fist. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know,” I say. “A skunk would run away from you right now. Phew!” I then pinch my nose closed.

“Stop it,” she gently laughs, slowly sitting up. “Stop making light of this.”

I rearrange myself, so we are facing each other on the bed, holding her hands in mine.

“Charlotte, you’re right, this is a serious matter. We do need to talk. After you shower. You seriously stink,” I say, with a grin, taking the sting out of my words.

“Stop,” she says, looking down. “How can you make light of this? How can you forgive me, for what I did?”

“Charlotte,” I say, she’s not going to let this go, “please, listen to me carefully. I never said I forgave you.” Her chest tightens at those words. “But I still do, and always will, love you.” I say, trying to put as much of that emotion into my words as possible. Her chest relaxes. “But, I am not going to have this conversation with you, while you make skunks run away.” I still project love into my words. “You need to shower. A nice, hot shower. To help you relax. And you need to eat. I will go fix some leftovers for you.” I take both her hands and bring them together, while looking at her in the eyes. “I. Love. You.”

As I say that, tears start to run down my eyes. Charlotte starts to blur because of those. I hear her start to sniffle and take one hand and run it across her eyes.

Love.

LOve.

LOVe.

LOVE!

All radiate out from her. It washes over me and my body just seems to…absorb it.

“C’mon,” I say, gently clasping her hands in mine and getting up from the bed. “Go shower. I’ll make you something to eat.”

She stands in front of me, head held a little higher than before. Then comes in and hugs me.

“I love you,” she says, gently hugging me.

“Hug me harder, Charlotte,” I whisper to her.

She tightens her hug.

“Harder,” I say.

She does.

“Harder, Charlotte, squeeze it all out,” I say. She hugs me for all that she’s worth. Mentally, I see myself squeezed in two because of it. And she holds it, breathing deeply. LOVE! She takes a deep breath in and then relaxes and lets go.

“Thank you,” she whispers into my chest.

“You’re welcome,” I whisper back to her. She breaks the embrace and heads into the bathroom.

In my head, I see a cartoon figure of a heart, glide out of my chest, and follow her into the bathroom.

Then I head to the kitchen.
 

Sklar

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**********STORY BREAK**********

I am sorry for the delay in updating the story.

The months of November and December were absolutely two of the worst months I've had in a long time, work wise.

I sell life insurance and those two months just bottomed out on me and sales were none existent.

I hit some pretty low area's financially and that effected me emotionally. I went down a hole.

I got hired on with UPS as a Season Support Driver. That's a position where I use my own car to help deliver excess packages to peoples homes. It pays 23.00 an hour plus I get milage, too!

The sad part is as soon as I was hired, they told me that their volume had dropped and they will call me when it picks up.

I'm still waiting.

I then picked up extra hours at the dojo I work and train at.

Things are getting better for me. Hence, the update!

Thank yo all for your patience with me.

I hope you enjoy the update!

Mark