The Dark Side

"...'Kay," Megan replied. "We wanta stay with you," she said. Evelyn nodded in agreement.

"Can we move in today?" Evelyn asked. "We can go pack right now," she added. They weren't wasting any time.

"Well ... I think we'll do that in a couple a' days," I returned. "I need to get some things done this afternoon, and you two have enough clothes here to last for a while, right?" They nodded.

"Okay, I'm going to run some errands and then go over to the house to get some things out of my file cabinet and stuff. I'll pick up some pizza on the way back. You girls find something to amuse yourselves 'til then?"

They nodded and kissed my cheeks. They really were incredible smart and capable young women. I was proud of them both.

* * *

I stopped back by the personnel office to sign some additional paperwork and get them to cash out my pension plan immediately. Then I made my way to the bank to sit down with a young manager who helped me turn CD's, some bearer bonds from our safety deposit box, and other assorted assets into cash. I knew all our assets would go under review by the family court when I, or Allison, filed for divorce. A proper division would be made retroactively, but I wanted control of that money now—I took a hit, what with all the penalties for early withdrawal and stuff like that, but that's life.

Without any particular strain, I wound up with a little more than three-hundred thousand, in cash. I'd asked for usable bills and got my wish; all those $20 dollar bills made quite a nice little pile that I stowed in a largish duffle bag and parked in the back of my Land Rover.

Satisfied I was set for a while, I dropped by the home Allison and I shared to pick up as much of my clothing and personal belongings as I could. I had some new, unassembled boxes in the storage room in the basement and I was going to fill as many of them as I could before the Bitch of Holcomb Industries got home.

I almost made it. I'd finished stacking boxes by the front door and was in the bedroom and I was about to grab a quick shower to wash off the sweat when Allison announced she was home. She started in on me while I was still out of sight and before she slammed the front door shut.

"GODDAMN YOU, RUSS. WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING BREAKING INTO MY OFFICE LIKE THAT, YOU SORRY BASTARD?" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

I didn't say a word from the bedroom. She was attacking to put me on the defensive, but that was a game I wasn't going to play. In my mind, I was already gone. This morning, on top of all the disrespect and coldness of the past few years, was all I needed to pronounce marriage officially dead.

None of her maneuvering was going to have any effect on me. You have to care in order to be manipulated. I was past all that; I didn't care at all. I felt kind of liberated actually, now that I'd made the decision to leave all the ugliness behind.

"WHERE—?" she yelled. She finally saw me in the bedroom where I was in the last stages of stripping my clothes off to get into the shower.

"Why didn't you answer me?" she asked indignantly, in a slightly moderated voice.

"...Didn't feel like I needed to," I replied coolly. "I figured you'd find me sooner or later ... damn it!" I sat down on the side of the big brass bed to take off my boxers.

That set her off again.

"YOU SORRY S.O.B. YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHIT YOU CAUSED? MY DAMN OFFICE IS WRECKED; IT'LL TAKE A GODDAMN MONTH TO FIX IT.

"...AND IT'S GOING TO TAKE ME A DAMN YEAR TO FIX EVERYTHING WITH THE BOARD AND MR. HOLCOMB."

"Tough shit," I replied mildly. Her eyes grew as big as saucers. "What does Mr. Holcomb think about you being a slut in his office building?" I asked interestedly, cutting off another screech or two. I'd seen she was inhaling in preparation to do the bullhorn thing again.

"SCREW YOU!" Allison shot back. "You had no right, dammit. Just what did you think you were going to do, huh, Russ. You gonna make me sorry for bein' a bad little girl?" She laughed derisively. "Is that what you thought you were gonna do, Russ? Big Bad Cop chargin' in to make his naughty wife behave, huh?"

"I thought someone was in trouble," I answered quietly. "I didn't know it was just you and your fuck-buddies gettin' it on," I added. "When I saw it was nothing but you whoring yourself out, I left."

"It was just going to be a little sex, Russ," She said, more or less, calmly. "I'm responsible for EVERYTHING that happens in that building. I think I'm entitled to blow off a little steam every now and then; it's one of the fringe benefits of being a successful senior executive, dammit ... and I think Dad is right. It's a thing he needed just to unwind. Mom knew about his ... friends ... and she understood how things are. You're just going to have to get with the program!"

I looked at her without speaking, too astounded to reply. I had no idea she'd even want to discuss such a thing with her father. I sure hadn't been part of the decision process.

"You don't have any idea what I have to deal with every damn day," she added defensively. "You just don't know how much everyone depends on me to get it right every damn time something comes up!"

"Any of those 'somethings' shoot at you?" I inquired. Her lips tightened. She didn't like being contradicted.

Two years earlier, when I was still a Commander heading up, among other things, the detective bureau, my uniformed driver and I stumbled onto a liquor store robbery and we shot it out with two bozos. During the gunfight, a round from one of them drew a red streak across the outside of my left shoulder before I was able to put him down. My partner took care of the other one, but took a bullet in the belly and spent six months in hospital and rehab.

Afterward, I'd wanted to take Allison and the girls on a family trip out West to see the Grand Canyon. I'd even used the phrase "blow off some steam," but she'd pooh poohed the idea.

"Fuck you!" my dear wife advised me. Looked to me like she remembered what I was thinking of and didn't like being put in a bad light.

"Good God, no!" I retorted. "I wouldn't touch your cunt with a ten-foot pole." With my boxers off, I stood up and was about to stroll into the bathroom.

Allison really didn't like my comment. Her face was a mask of fury. Apparently, what I'd said wasn't respectful enough.

Allison moved forward aggressively, ramping up her CEO intimidation mode. "You listen to me, dammit," she began, "you are going to write a letter of apology to me, my staff, and to Mr. Holcomb telling everyone how sorry you are you overreacted at something you thought you heard and something you thought you saw. You're going to offer to pay for fixing everything—don't even think I'm going to give you money to do that—and you're going to say you'll never come in the Holcomb Building ever again, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"My God," I said softly, astounded by her arrogance. I looked around the room helplessly. "Help me, Obi Wan! She's been seduced by the dark side!" I called out dramatically. "Help me, Obi Wan ... help me!"

I was disgusted. I'd have spit on the floor if it hadn't been such an expensive carpet. I stepped around my deranged wife, en route to the bathroom and a nice hot shower.

Her lips twisting manically, Allison cut me off, and stepped into my path to block me. Her right hand came whistling around to deliver a hard slap to the left side of my face. Clearly, I 'd been a little too flippant to the CEO of the universe.

It wasn't any great problem avoiding the blow. I was already moving to her right to get around her and walk into the bathroom, so all I had to do was lean away. I swatted at her elbow from behind as it went by and that, together with the impetus her own swing produced, helped propel her almost all the way around. Still on the way to the bath, I stepped behind her at the same time she was whirling back to get at me again, so she wound up facing me again. She was spitting mad and raised her hand to try another slap.

I'd had enough. I stepped inside her swing easily enough, blocking it with my left forearm. Then I put both palms on her shoulders and shoved her backward toward the bed.

Allison liked brass beds. I never figured out why, but she'd coaxed her father into buying her one when she was nine years old, and she'd had one ever since. This one, the one we supposedly shared, was kingsized. The foot of it was a framework of metal spindles and crossbar supports, the topmost of which was about four feet off the floor.

Allison was already stumbling backward when the back of her thighs contacted the top crossbar. That stopped her lower body's progress, but her upper body still had plenty of momentum. Her torso was propelled backward, dragging her legs with her. As her feet came up, I slapped the back of her ankles to give her even more impetus. She wound up doing a complete 180, flipping all the way over to land on her belly and stare bemusedly back in my direction. Her eyes weren't rolling like a cartoon character's would have, but she was most certainly disoriented for the moment.

Without taking even a teensy, weensy moment to think about what I was doing, I grabbed Allison's hands and pulled them together. I still had my handcuffs on my belt, and my belt was on the bedspread, having bounced close to Allison's body when she hit the mattress in her tumble. In a flash, I had Allison's left wrist captured in one cuff. I wound the other handcuff around the top crossbar and snicked it shut around her right wrist.

A second later, Allison realized what was going on. "You bastard! Let me go!" she demanded. She tried pulling on the cuffs, rattling them on the brass tubes. She squirmed around on the bed until she was on her back with her arms over her head and her hands held captive at the foot of the bed. She glowered at me malevolently. If glances were at all dangerous, the looks she gave me would have maimed me instantly.

"LET. ME. GO!" she said icily.

I paid her no mind—I barely heard what she said. My brain was on autopilot. Too much had happened today.

I was already naked, ready for the shower. It seemed to me she should be naked too and I acted on that belief. There was a pair of scissors in the bathroom; I was back and had them in my hands in a second.

"What're you doing?" Allison asked vehemently. She was vacillating between anger and a building fear. "Dammit, Russ, let me go. You can't do this to me!"

Oh, really?

I grinned, grabbed her legs and flipped her over on her belly, stretching her long legs down the length of the bed. I ripped off her low heels and straddled her butt cheeks to use the scissors to cut her blouse off her, exposing Allison's pale white body. She hadn't been getting enough sun lately. I could remember the time she had a beautiful all-over tan, but those days were long gone. She didn't have the time for such frivolities these days.

Her blouse came off quickly. I warned her several times not to squirm around so much; told her she might get cut accidentally. She settled down after that warning, but she never let up on the verbal assault, calling me everything in the book except a loving husband.

A moment later, I'd cut through the waist band of her pants and far enough down the legs to make it easy to yank the remnants off. Her panties quickly followed. I don't know why, but I was surprised to see she'd put her panties back on. It didn't matter, they were gone fast and my dear wife was naked. I rolled her over on her back, looking her over.

She was beyond furious.

"Time was...," I drawled, "you and I went naked all day long and loved it. There wasn't a room in any of our houses we didn't christen the first couple a' days we lived there." I motioned toward the interior of our home beyond the bedroom door. "Now, I can't even remember the last time we did it behind a locked door in THIS room, much less anywhere else!"

I cupped her mons in my right palm. "This used to be mine," I told her, "til you became such a damn bitch all the time." I leaned forward to glare into her face. "Now, I don't even want it anymore ... give it to anyone who wants it, whore!" I massaged her pussy lips. Surprisingly, they were wet. Slipping a finger inside her, I found her juices were flowing.

"So ... still a little hyped up from playing with your fuck-buddies?" I asked facetiously.

"They weren't—" she began.

"Sure they were," I retorted. "I saw you, dummy! I saw all three of you—them two already fuckin' and you gettin' ready for a little belly bumpin'," I told her. She didn't respond for a moment, throwing her body around and trying to get free instead. I crowded her up against the brass foot rails, my knees between her thighs and her hands still locked together at the foot of the bed.

I decided. I grabbed a big throw pillow from behind me and forced it under Allison's butt. It raised her groin and made it easy for me to slide my cock inside her. I wasn't making love to my wife; I was fucking her. No foreplay, and no particular gentleness. I thrust inside slowly, but firmly—letting her body adjust, so as not to hurt her, but not allowing her to pull away either.

"GODDAMMIT, RUSS! I DON'T WANT YOU TO—" She stifled a moan that threatened to escape. "Stop it!" she demanded more softly.

It didn't matter what she said. I wasn't listening. I continued to pound her cunt hard for long minutes until I felt the lava flow of hot semen rising inside me. I sprayed a fountain of creamy white come inside her; did it twice more, and then I withdrew. I thought she had an orgasm, but I didn't really care. Allison had been denying me for so long, there was a ton of pent up sexual desire I was going to get out of my system.

I whipped her over onto her stomach, shoved the pillow back under her hips and rammed my cock back inside. I rode her for another ten minutes while she cursed me. I was impressed. Somewhere along the line, my wife had learned to curse like a stevedore. I wondered who'd taught her that, but I didn't care.

Giving her a short break, I rolled off the bed and yanked open the lower drawer in her nightstand. It was where she kept a number of things—things like lubricant ... and toys. I worked the lube into her asshole and coated a slender vibrator with the fluids still seeping out of her vagina. I turned the vibrator on and worked it deep in her bung hole before ramming my cock back into her cunt. I rode her hard, working the buzzing vibrator in and out of her ass as best I could. Before I came again, I was sure she had also—at least twice and I thought a third time, but I wasn't sure. ...Didn't care all that much; it was just information.

Then I pulled a condom on, found another vibrator—a nice, thick purple one this time—and inserted it inside her cunt. Turning it on, I slid it slowly in and out on low for a long moment. There was a sliding tab controlling the intensity and I abruptly snapped it all the way to the highest setting and let the buzz become an angry whine. Working slow, I spread a big gob of lube into and around Allison's bottom, I pushed another dildo inside her and worked it all around. I threw it into a corner of the room and pushed a thicker one into her anus. After shoving a third well-lubed dildo inside her nether hole, I introduced my hard-on into Allison's back hole and pushed inward.

My wife and I didn't do anal sex. We did attempt it a couple of times when we were just married, because Allison wanted to be able to say we'd tried it. We didn't particularly care for the time it took to prepare for the act properly. It just took too damn long and we preferred spontaneity. It didn't do that much for me, and did nothing for her.

But this afternoon wasn't about what we, or she, preferred; tonight was about me using Allison to get off and let her know she had feet of clay. High and mighty business leader though she was, she was still my woman, no matter what. I came hard in her anus, stripped off the used condom and crammed another vibrator—I really hadn't known she possessed this many—inside her rectum and plunged my penis back between her plump pussy lips and deep inside her.

* * *

When I looked up at the wall clock, more than an hour and forty-five minutes had passed. I was exhausted. I tried a little masturbation, but there was no way it was going to get stiff again without some rest. When I was finished with her, the only hole I hadn't shoved my prick into was her mouth. That was because I liked the length of my dick right where it was, and didn't need it shortened by a couple of inches.

Allison lay there on her belly, not moving much, and just making a low whimper every now and then. She hadn't been shouting imprecations at me for a long while now; she'd stopped that in favor of loud groans and moans. She wasn't even doing that now.

Wearily, I knee-walked to the edge of the bed and stumbled off into the bathroom for a long delayed hot shower. When I began recovered somewhat, I turned the flow of water to its coldest and hopped around under the spray for a bit, hoping to get the blood flowing again. It may have worked; I don't know. I seemed to have a little more energy stepping back into the bedroom.

Allison was still laying quietly in the puddle of fluids left over from the sex I'd pressed on her. I made sure she was breathing easily; she appeared to be sleeping. I found the key to the cuffs and released her hands. I looked her over carefully. There might be some minor bruising around her wrists where she'd struggled to get free, and her pussy lips showed how they'd been pounded, but there was no blood and no torn flesh.

I'd taken her without her consent, but I hadn't brutalized her. It didn't make any difference. Technically, I'd raped her and I knew I was in deep trouble. My former position as a senior police officer wasn't going to help me one damn bit. Being a maverick, I hadn't cultivated any friends in the District Attorney's office; I didn't have any strings to pull.

I was going to go down hard. Except—I had two teenage daughters I had to take care of, and I couldn't do that from the inside of a prison. Their mother hadn't been much of a parent for many years. She was too busy climbing the proverbial corporate ladder. Neither Megan nor Evelyn got along with her too terribly well.

Me? As a former cop, I wasn't going to survive a prison sentence. Tough-as-nails prisoners, many of them gang-bangers, would be licking their chops when they heard I was behind bars.

So, I was going to have to run. I accepted the idea surprisingly easy. I'd been a clean cop; I'd never even been tempted, but now there was no recourse. I'd brought it all on myself and I accepted that. Still, I was going to do my damndest to evade paying for what I'd done. I was going to betray everything I'd been as a law enforcement officer. It was hypocritical and deceitful. So be it. My girls came first.

Dressing in the one pair of blue jeans and pullover shirt I hadn't packed away in a box, I chose a sturdy pair of hiking boots for my feet and a light windbreaker for my shoulders. Checking on Allison one last time, I went out the front door with two boxes of clothing in my arms and loaded them into my Land Rover. I called it my "truck" and it was my pride and joy. I'd bought it two years ago in spite of Allison's jeering. She thought a four-wheel drive vehicle was ridiculous in the city.

I didn't bother taking many personal belongings. Keepsakes and souvenirs weren't allowed a man on the run. I took a few pictures pulled from their frames and stuffed them inside a manila folder, but that was all.

On my way out for the last time, I paused at the small credenza where we used to toss our keys when we came in from work. I decided to do something I really didn't need to do; it wouldn't take very long.

Reversing course, I walked back to Allison's dresser and selected a tube of deep shade of red lipstick from the collection in a side drawer. Working carefully, I drew the letters "I DIVORCE THEE" on the left most mirror. I wrote it again on the middle mirror, and then a third time on the far right mirror. Studying the result, I wrote in smaller letters at the bottom of the third mirror, "FUCK YOU!" I guess it was childish, but it summed up how I felt towards the woman I used to love.