I took a few minutes to compose myself. Then I joined my daughters in the hospital room occupied by their mother, my wife. I was stunned when I saw how weak and pale Michelle appeared to be. Suddenly my mirth was completely erased and I felt real concern.

"Hi there," Michelle whispered. "You must be Billy Shears."

I had to smile at her acknowledgement of my unusual costume. Not every woman would know I was wearing a Sgt. Pepper jacket!

"I'm Getting Better," smiled Michelle, "With a Little Help Of My Friends."

The girls and I exchanged grins at Michelle's references to my favorite album. Then she had us laughing heartily when she stated, "They've been 'Fixing a Hole' and it hasn't been any fun!"

"Please, Mom, lay off the Pepper jokes, okay?" Becky whined.

I marveled at Michelle's sense of humor under such painful circumstances. It occurred to me that her humor was one of the things that drew me to her those many years ago.

"We all feel terrible that you had to go through this alone, Darling," I told her. "Why couldn't it at least happen when we were home to help you."

"No, it wouldn't happen then," grimaced Michelle. "It certainly isn't your fault. None of you could know this would happen."

Now I was feeling guilty! It was my fault! I knew there was a very good chance of it happening, if in fact, Michelle was having an affair with that damn asshole boss of mine.

The girls and I visited until Michelle fell asleep. Then the nurse insisted we leave for the evening, so we trudged back to the car and drove home.

Before going to bed, I had to find clean sheets and make the bed. There was no sign of the linens that had adorned my marital bed the previous evening. I retrieved the recorder from under the bed, but I didn't dare play it with my daughters at home. I wasn't sure what it would contain, but I was certain I didn't want the girls to hear it! I decided to wait until I could listen in complete privacy.

I was at work at my desk Monday morning when George Stowe strolled into my office. Was it my imagination or was he watching me closely for a reaction?

"How was the weekend, Eric?" he finally asked. "How did everything go in Cleveland?"

"If it went any better, George, I'd shit gold bricks!" I avowed. "The entire weekend went exactly as planned. How did you and the missus enjoy the show Friday?"

"Oh! It was quite, ah, interesting. The wife told me to thank you for corsage. It was very thoughtful," admitted George. "Your wife and kids got along okay with you gone all weekend?"

He was obviously fishing again. I wasn't going to take the bait, however.

"They're all pretty independent," I allowed. "All three are modern women and don't need some dumb man to help them get through a weekend."

After George left, I remembered the recording device under my desk and gave it some thought. I decided I wasn't done with George and would try to think of a way to use it again, if George was dumb enough to fall for the same trick twice. It would seem that an intelligent man would wonder about my anal advice to my brother, considering how he had hospitalized Michelle. Still, I frequently used the same gambit several times in a game of chess, against the same opponent, and often with positive results.

I wrote a meaningless note in large letters and taped it on the left side of my desk by the phone. It would serve to remind me that I was being recorded and to be cautious at all times.

I left work at lunchtime and went home to listen to the recording from that fateful night. I had mixed emotions about hearing it, but I felt it was something I had to do.

It didn't take too long for me to realize I had concealed the microphone too well. It clicked on and off a few times as I listened, but I was unable to make anything out until I heard the bed squeak.

"You'll be inviting me back after you get a ride on my big cock," laughed George. His voice was very clear.

"You Bastard!" spit Michelle. "It'll be a cold day in Hell before I ever even speak to you again. Now do it and get it over with."

"Is that any way for a woman to talk to her lover?" chuckled George. "Here. I want you to suck on this bad boy for a few minutes. I really like that."

"Well I really like considerate, intelligent men. It looks like we're both out of luck, Dickhead," snarled Michelle.

I was starting to get an uneasy feeling that things weren't exactly as I had perceived them to be. Somehow, George had fooled me with some daring move I had not anticipated!

"I expect a little more cooperation from you if you want to get those pictures back, Bitch!" growled George. "Now suck my cock or the deal is off. I've already missed my Friday night fuck session with you because your dipshit husband told my wife about the goddamn tickets!"

After that, Michelle was quiet and George only made an occasional grunt or moan. I was getting a real bad feeling about my clever act of revenge.

Eventually the bed springs began making a regular rhythm and George's groans increased. Then the sound stopped for a few seconds. Then there was a horrible scream! It was followed by language that would make a longshoreman blush.

"Goddamn dumb fuck!" Michelle screeched. "Take that out now, you miserable, rotten fuck-faced shit!"

"Relax, whore!" George replied. "You'll be begging me for more in a couple minutes. You know you love it, so shut the fuck up."

Eventually Michelle's curses turned to sobs and then to a quiet crying. Even an insensitive shit like George should have been able to discern the pain in her sobs. He never slowed down and the bed was making that regular thumping sound again.

My hands were clenched and sweat was streaming off my brow. I listened in horror as George kept up a steady rhythm for another five minutes as Michelle cried and begged him to stop. It was the single most upsetting thing I had ever heard.

I had given up on my queen too soon! I could have, and should have, saved her. Instead, I had sacrificed her, and for what? A pawn maybe! The big laugh I had enjoyed at the hospital came back to haunt me. I had blundered badly, and Michelle had suffered greatly for it.

Why had she agreed to a tryst with George if she found him so repugnant? To what pictures had George been referring?

I returned to work bitter and confused. What was really going on? There was no way of knowing unless George or Michelle spilled the beans. One thing became abundantly clear. George was going down, regardless of the consequences. Of that, I was certain. The question was; how and when?

Michelle came home from the hospital Wednesday afternoon, but was still quite pale and in a fair amount of pain. I did everything I could possibly think of to make her comfortable. She wasn't totally without blame for her situation, but my guilt was almost tangible. I realized that I never wanted her to suffer again and it was my duty as her husband to protect her, not cause her harm. I had not done a very good job with that!

Days passed and Michelle gradually regained her strength. It was obvious to me that she was a troubled woman. Shit, I should know the signs and symptoms! I was struggling with guilt of my own. Together we were a pretty pathetic couple. Thank god the girls were around to bring some cheer and levity into the house.

Two weeks passed before an opportunity to strike a blow to George's position presented itself. I was called into a meeting of the top brass of the company to give a personal report on my Cleveland trip. It seems that I had done such a bang-up, kiss-ass job, that the business my company did with the Cleveland concern had the potential to double!

"The one thing to remember," I concluded at my presentation, "is that the CEO, and founder of the company, Mr. Thomas Bender, is a devout Christian. He will not tolerate any jokes that are even slightly off-color. He believes women should be demure and chaste. No low-neck lines, or high hemlines. It may sound old fashioned, but take it from me. It is his way or the highway. I cannot stress that enough."

I was thanked for my contribution, and then dismissed. The bosses, including the king of assholes, George, remained to discuss strategy. As I made my way back to my office, I formulated a plan for my next attempt to checkmate my nemesis. It wouldn't be simple, but I had to try.

Evenings at home still found Michelle quiet and reserved. I did everything I could to help her recuperate, but I couldn't help her heal emotionally. Looking back, I think I may have been carrying far too much baggage of my own to help anyone. I had no idea what George had over Michelle, but it appeared from what little information I had, he had somehow blackmailed her. I could have stopped it, but instead, I had allowed it. I was even responsible for George's heinous act.

Friday at work, I learned that Mr. Thomas Bender was going to visit our company, potentially to double the contract we had with his firm. Everyone was quite excited about the prospect and the general mood was very upbeat. George Stowe and another vice-president were assigned to handle the negotiations. This could be a real feather in George's cap and he showed some strain from the pressure.

"Eric, what can I say or do to impress this guy," he asked me Monday morning. "The old fart will be here Thursday and Friday and fly home Saturday. What does he like?"

There were several of us sitting around my desk discussing less important matters when George interrupted us. I looked him squarely in the eye and formed my response.

"Watch you language very carefully, George. Don't try to make any jokes, especially about women," I warned. "Praise the lord at every opportunity and stay away from sports. He thinks pro sports are the work of the devil."

George nodded and walked away. The others asked a few more questions after George had left. I maintained the need for ethical, highly professional behavior. It was all part of my plan to trap the king. I had made my position on handling Mr. Bender very clear to all levels of the company.

That night I spend a couple hours writing, and editing my next phone call to my brother, Chuck. It took quite some time to get it exactly the way I wanted it. I just hoped the results would be worth the effort. Even with an out of order number, the telephone can be a very useful tool.

Tuesday morning, I was prepared to give an Oscar-worthy performance. At least, that was my goal. I picked up the receiver and dialed that dead number again. As I spoke, I watched to see if the recorder was picking everything up. The red light came on and away I went!

"Hey, Chuck! How's it hanging, Bro? I asked. "No shit? You actually tried ass-fucking Nancy?"

I laughed about ten seconds and then spoke again.

"You dumb shit! How could you ever believe that story?" I demanded. "I was just pulling your leg. Is she still mad at you?"

I silently counted to ten and continued.

"Wow! Who would have thought she would be that upset? She'll come back, just give her time."

This time I counted to fifteen before I spoke again.

"I've got a little something going here at work. Don't ever let on that I told you this, okay?" I asked.

I allowed a brief pause and then I began.

"Our company has this big kahuna coming in from Cleveland. He owns a firm we hope to secure a big contract with and everyone here is shitting razorblades. The deal means a lot to our company," I understated.

"Now, get ready for the interesting part. The guy likes to convey the image of a holier-than-thou, sanctimonious fuck. The truth is he is a whore-mongering pervert! I found it out when I went to Cleveland a couple weeks back," I revealed. "We went out for a quiet dinner and wound up fucking the shit out of a couple whores we picked up!"

"He did things to those sluts I never even knew could be done, twice! I couldn't begin to keep up with the guy, and he is no spring chicken," I confessed. "He is coming in Thursday and I have already made arrangements to escort a couple working girls to his hotel room at midnight on Friday. He told me to be sure they have big tits and tight asses!" I laughed.

"He's promised me that he will insist that I be placed in charge of his account with my company. When that happens, I will move past my dumb-fuck boss so fast his head will spin. By this time next week, I'll have his job, and he doesn't even have a clue."

I spent the next minute or so talking about some cousins, just to make it look like a real brotherly conversation. After hanging up, I began thinking about George's next move. Would he take the bait, or smell a rat? What about the pictures? What were they about and where were they? Did he give them to Michelle in return for the sex?

It was mind boggling to think Michelle would be dumb enough to think she could buy off a blackmailer, even with a piece of her ass. It seemed unlikely to me that George would give up his control over Michelle that easily. He would keep copies to use against her, or to force sex on her again. Of that, I was certain.

I remembered seeing George's desk with a digital camera plugged into the USB port on his PC. Could he have the pictures on his company machine? That would be pretty dumb, but it would probably be worse to have them at home where his wife could see them.

Wednesday morning George knocked on my door and then entered. He seemed unusually happy, much like the cat that got the canary.

"Hey, Eric, we need your services as a road warrior this weekend," grinned the prick. "You have to drive to Allentown with an idea that our promotion department is working on. It won't be done until around five on Friday. You have to get it there as soon as you can and then bring it back after they have made their suggestions and changes. There is just way too much shit to fax, or email. You'll have a trunk-full, believe me. Plan on spending the night and returning Saturday afternoon, okay?"

This was an obvious bullshit assignment he had dreamed up to get me out of town. I was surprised at his nerve.

"Is that a question, George, or a directive?" I asked.

"I am asking first, but you will be doing it, Eric. Let's leave it as a request that you have accepted," stated George.

"Then I accept!" I responded. "It will be my pleasure."

Then I hesitated for a few seconds.

"Would it be alright if I found someone to go in my stead, George?" I asked. "I kinda had plans for the weekend."

"Goddamnit! This has been assigned to you, not some fucking unknown entity!" growled George. "You will fucking well do it if you value your career with this company!"

"You have a way with words, George," I acknowledged. "My ass is practically on the turnpike as we speak."

George glared at me but seemed satisfied that I was cowed into taking a road trip Friday night. That was the very night I had promised Thomas Bender I'd get his brains fucked out. At least I believed that George believed that. I realized it would take more than a little luck for everything to work as I had hoped.

Thursday afternoon brought a real surprise. It was as if I had unknowingly left a rook unprotected! I saw George escorting a strange man through the company offices and asked who it was.

Dave, whose office was down the hall from mine, laughed derisively at me as he responded, "I thought you and Thomas Bender were on a first name basis, Eric. Now I find out you don't even know what he looks like!"

I managed a weak grin and hurried back to my office. Was I in the Twilight Zone or something? I had spent a few hours with Thomas Bender, and he wasn't the fucking impersonator wandering through the halls of our company. Things were getting very complicated!

I searched through my wallet, looking for Bender's card. I found it and I even had his cell number penciled in. On an impulse, I dialed the number.

"Thomas Bender," responded the voice!

It took me a few seconds to decide how to begin the conversation. Finally, I just jumped in.

"Mr. Bender, this is Eric Swenson. I don't know if you remember me but....."

"Of course, I remember you, Eric!" he boomed. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm not sure how to say this, but there is a man here at my company claiming to be Thomas Bender. He is getting the VIP treatment from our top brass," I added. "Should I call security and have him arrested or something?"

"That would be my erstwhile nephew, Thomas Bender. Please don't do anything rash. He is who he claims to be and appears to be in charge of my company at the moment," Bender sighed.

"Remember when I explained to you how I had given shares of the company to my siblings, as well as the wife's?" he asked. "I had started the company from nothing and had built it into a very prosperous organization. My only problem seems that I was far too trusting."

"I'm not following you, Sir," I confessed.

"Listen and you will, Eric. A few days after your visit we had a shareholders' meeting and that little toad had gathered enough votes to take control of the company! I am working to correct that little oversight even as we speak, but it is more difficult than I had imagined. Enough shares have changed hands through death and sales to greatly complicate my efforts. I have about 44% of the shares in my corner. There's about 10%, enough to swing things either way, that remains on the fence, so to speak. They are waiting to see if the damn little rooster can conduct business better than I!"

"Wow! I am sure sorry to hear about it, Mr. Bender," I offered. "If there is anything I can do, just let me know."

"Actually, there is, Eric. You may have noticed that I adhere to a rather strict moral code. The same can be said for most of my family and my wife's relatives," continued Mr. Bender. "If my nephew strays from the straight and narrow, he will be bounced out so fast his head will spin. Keep an eye on the lad for me."

"Mr. Bender, did your company rent your nephew's hotel room, or did he use his own money?" I asked. "If the company paid for it, the company can place surveillance equipment inside the room, can't it?"

"I see what you are getting at, Eric! I suspect that technically, it is still an invasion of privacy. Practically, however, he will be finished before he can mount a defense if he behaves too boorishly. I still carry enough weight around here to manage some covert activity. It is in the best interest of the company, after all, isn't it?" he laughed. "If that little weasel behaves as a gentleman, there will be no harm done. If he doesn't, well then, he isn't worthy to represent our concerns!"

"Thanks for the call, Eric, but I have to attend to some pressing business," chuckled Thomas Bender. With that, the line went dead.

That evening, I was sitting in the living room, wondering how everything would turn out Friday night, when Michelle walked carefully into the room. Our daughters were at band practice and we had the house to ourselves.

"Eric, I have something to tell you. It will be difficult for both of us, but please let me tell the entire story before you say anything or ask any questions," pleaded Michelle.

I saw how serious she was and realized that it was the time of reckoning. I nodded and let her start.

"A few months ago I accepted an invitation from Florence White to stop by and swim in her pool. It was a very hot day and the water felt great. We had a few glasses of wine and, combined with the heat, it had an unusually strong affect on me. After a couple more drinks, Florence and I were swimming nude and laughing like school girls."

Was this all over some nude pictures? Michelle looked pretty good in the buff and there would be little more than some embarrassment. Why be blackmailed over nude pictures? I kept my silence and allowed Michelle to continue.

"We soon tired and laid down on the lounge chairs. I fell asleep and when I awoke, Florence was eating my pussy! Before I could tell her to stop, I heard George Stowe's voice. I was mortified," sobbed Michelle.
"He was taking pictures of Florence and me. I have no idea how many. I jumped up and quickly pulled my suit back on. I gathered from the conversation between George and Florence that they were lovers and he stopped by her place a few times a week. About ten days later I found an envelope taped to the front door when I got home. When I opened it, there were several pictures of me naked, with Florence's face in my pussy."

Michelle had tears streaming down her cheeks and her voice was cracking. I could see why she had to let it out. It was eating her up, like some kind of poison. I had never dreamed anything like this was going on. I had made an assumption and acted on it, almost ruining Michelle's life. If I had simply demanded she tell me what was going on, I could have prevented much of her pain and suffering. I felt ill.

"A few days later, George called and told me that he would give me the pictures back if I agreed to have sex with him one weekend. Eric, I was ashamed and scared that I would lose you and the girls if those pictures got out, so I agreed."

Michelle broke down and cried. I moved next to her and held her in my arms until she was able to continue. I couldn't look in her eyes as I listened to the rest of the story.

"I agreed to let him come over and have sex with me on the Friday and Saturday you were scheduled to go to Cleveland. You kept telling me to get theater tickets and he kept calling and telling me you were going away for the weekend. I prayed that you would stay home and take me to the theater, though I knew he was your boss and you wouldn't risk losing your job," Michelle sniffled.

"He was upset because you told his wife about the tickets so he had to go to the theater that night. I was so relieved! I wasn't as lucky the next night. He was horrible. He made me do things, things I don't even do for you and I love you so much," wailed Michelle. "Then he sodomized me and wouldn't stop, no matter how much I begged, cried, and threatened. Looking back, I think he expected me to enjoy it, if you can believe that."

"I spent most of the night trying to stop the bleeding, but I couldn't, Eric. It just kept flowing out of me. By morning I knew I had to the hospital or I might bleed to death. I put the sheets into a garbage bag and tossed them in a dumpster just down the road by the church. Then I called Helen Barnes and asked her to take me to the hospital. I was pretty weak by then and don't remember much more until you and the girls came into the room."

There it was. Michelle had been wronged by three people; Florence, George, and worst of all, by me. I lacked faith in her and allowed, encouraged really, her sodomizing. My mind reeled. I ran for the bathroom and vomited.

When I cleaned up and reentered the room, Michelle was looking at me in fear. She probably thought her revelations had made me ill!

"Do you hate me now, Eric? Are we finished? You must despise me. I despise myself!" she sobbed.

I reached down, gripped her arms and picked her up from the sofa and crushed her to my chest. When she finally stopped sobbing I spoke.

"Michelle, you should have told me what was happening. It seems that I'm not everything a husband should be if you were afraid to reveal this terrible situation to me. I could have kept you from being hurt. That is a husband's job, and I have let you down, big time. I am glad you finally told me what is troubling you," I admitted. "Now we can start to make it better."

"You mean you will keep me, Eric? You won't divorce me?" Michelle sobbed.

"Quite the opposite, Darling. I am going to hold you closer and spend more time with you. Your mistake was to yield to blackmail. It was a bad decision, but I think I can understand your thinking at the time. That never, never works, but so many people still do it," I allowed.

"Truth is the simple cure for blackmail. It may be difficult to do, but it is so simple. We both need to work on being more honest with each other," I admitted. "If we can't depend on each other, we have no one."

"Eric, I was so stupid. It is obvious now, but I couldn't see it then. My problem isn't over, either. That prick told me he had printed some pictures for me, but he still had the memory card and had downloaded everything to his computer. He can still make my life hell. How will you ever be able to work for him again, Eric?" asked Michelle.

"Again, the answer is simple," I told Michelle. "I can't. The question is how can I keep from ripping his fucking heart out? Why haven't I done that already? I seem to be too clever, too devious for my own good. There is much to be said for the direct approach. I will never work with that man after tomorrow. I promise you that. There are other jobs and we have some savings. I feel liberated, actually. Let's have a cup of coffee and decide what we are going to do."

Michelle took my hand and walked into the kitchen with me. I considered telling her my part in the tragedy, but decided against it. She needed to believe I was her pillar, her rock. I had to give her that appearance of strength. The truth would have torn us apart. Of that I was certain.

The next day I hung around the promotion department, acting impatient. The truth was I had no intention of making the senseless trip to Allentown, so it mattered little how long the creative minds in that department took. It also kept me away from that bastard, George.

It was just after five when I loaded a bunch of shit in the trunk of my car and headed for the turnpike, for a mile. Then I went home and had a nice dinner with Michelle and the girls, before they left for a football game. I explained that I had errands to run and would join them latter.

I went back to the office building and let myself in. I really didn't care if I ran into any custodians. I went to George's office and let myself in with the key I had 'borrowed' a couple weeks earlier. It only took a couple minutes to remove the hard drive from his computer. A small pry-bar gave me access to his desk drawers. I found a cache of memory cards and took all of them. I even removed the one from his camera. Then I found the little tapes that go into George's hidden recorder. I took all of them. I looked everything over calmly and decided I had missed nothing. I locked his door when I left and drove to the high school in time to join Michelle and watch the girls perform with the band at halftime. On the way home, I stopped and tossed everything from George's office into the Susquehanna River. Michelle helped me. The girls went to school dance after the game and weren't with us.

I spent the weekend doing things with Michelle and the girls. My career was in tatters, but my home life was finally starting to look up. My determination to be a better husband and father made me happier and consequently, made my family happier. It occurred to me that Michelle had the same goal and we enjoyed each other more than we had in years.

Monday morning I went into the office. I still had a trunk full of crap from promotion that I never delivered. I planned on returning it, and to also hand in my resignation. First though, I went into my closet and took out the recorder there. I removed the tape and stomped on the machine several times. I dropped the pieces into the trash can. I just sat down to compose my resignation letter when Herb Stewart, president of the company, came into the office.

"It seems that George Stowe almost lost our account with Bender this weekend, Eric. He engaged in some rather inappropriate activities with the Thomas Bender that was here last week. As I suspect you already know, having met the gentleman, that the Thomas Bender we so graciously entertained and ass-kissed last week was not the man that founded the company. There was some sort of proxy struggle and it seems that this Bender the nephew wrestled control away from Bender the uncle, for about a week," chuckled Herb.

"After George's and Bender the nephew's performance on wide screen surveillance monitors Friday night, their next employment may be in the porn industry. George insists you set him up, that you said Bender was a sexual pervert and he was just trying to get the contract for the company," continued Herb. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Hell, Herb. I told the idiot to NOT do anything unprofessional," I replied.

"That was certainly my impression at the meeting you addressed, Eric, and a few of your coworkers tell me you told George that very thing here in your office last week," added Herb.

"The good news is the original Thomas Bender has regained control of his company. He wants to increase our share of his business, and he wants you to be in charge of the account. That makes you a vice president with a healthy pay raise and George's old office. You'll have to bring along your office computer though. George must have known he was going to lose his job and removed the hard drive from his computer and broke the locks on the desk drawers. We'll get you a new desk. Congratulations!"

Herb gave me the first of what must have been a hundred hand shakes that day. Everyone loves a winner. I had George in checkmate and that made me a winner, or so it seemed. As far as I am concerned, the jury is still out.