Beach War

Written in UK English by a dyslexic.

Mark and Samantha Harris -- known to everyone as Sam - were married, happily it seemed for 15 years, they never had children, never wanted any, both were larger than life characters and didn't want to slow down.

Both had large circles of friends, naturally Mark's were men and Sam's women, there was a fair overlap of married couples so in practical terms there were 3 groups. Most weekend there was at least one of these groups having a get together, so they had a busy social life, exactly what not having had kids, was exactly what they wanted.

Life was pretty good, they had ok jobs, had to work hard to make their money, no cushy office jobs, he worked in a manufacturing company, heat and sweat his constant companions, she waited tables, on her feet 5 or 6 days a week depending on shifts, covering breakfast lunch and dinner or a combination of them. Still, they always had the energy to play hard at the end of the week.

Sex was always good between them, sometimes it had felt a little stale, but they were pretty good at recognising when they were struggling and fighting their way back. Love was never the problem, more often their exhausting jobs just sapped their energy, getting revved up the problem.

Still, everything was great between them -- until it wasn't.

It all turned to shit after Mark had a weekend away with the lads, they'd gone to a seaside resort in the South of England called Brighton, home to the first official approved nude beach in the UK.

Their friends who knew where they were going thought it was a bad idea that so many married men were heading off without wives to a place where bare flesh was visible. Somebody was bound to overstep the mark. The mark? Yes, our man Mark, he was the silly bastard who saw a large pair of tits and decided, "I'm having some of that".

Of course, he had a beery lunch and his judgment was impaired by too many Stellas, both Stella Artois and Stella with the big tits. Everyone agreed they were an absolute champion set of tits, but only Mark decided to make a fool of himself in pursuit of the ultimate tit-wank.

His group of lads and Stella's group of girls met up that night for more booze and some dancing. Yes, some paired off and did some harmless flirting, the sort of things that wives would not be happy with but wouldn't be off down to the solicitor on Monday morning after packing the kids off to school, but there is always one dickhead in every group. That dickhead was called Mark.

Nobody ever accused Mark of being intelligent, even his best friends thought he was a good guy but a bit of a half-wit, prone to the dumb move, always getting into scrapes, usually coming out without much damage.

So, his latest brainwave? He encouraged several mates to accompany him and Stella back to the beach where she took her top and bra off, he dropped his jeans and kegs and he tit-fucked her whilst his mates videoed the whole thing on their camera phones. What a fucking lark, everyone roared with laughter as he sprayed her massive top bollocks with a gallon of jizz. Everyone was high fiving him.

Yeah, what a laugh, right up until he got home and saw Sam's face and heard her say, "You rotten cunt, my brothers are going to kick seven colours of shit out of you. Keep your bag packed and fuck off out of my house. I hate you."

"Sam, please..."

"Fuck off, Mark, get out."

"Sam, please it was just stupid, I'm never going to see her again, I know it is bad, but it won't ... oh fuck, I'm sorry you had to see that Sam, I'm an idiot."

"Yes, Mark you are but everyone we know has seen that stupid video, our parents either have or will probably see it, what goes through your thick head at times Mark? Right now, I can't deal with knowing everyone we know has seen you with that bimbo, you need to go, I can't deal with you being here like nothing has happened."

"I'll tell you something else Mark, when you are an idiot, you need to choose your friends wisely. Joey showed it to Beth on his phone, I'm sure she has sent it to all the girls. You've really fucked things up, you need to get out."

"OK love, I understand I'm sorry, let's talk soon and see how we get past this." Mark was gutted with remorse, how had he been so dumb?

"Mark, I do love you, but what you should have said is 'if we can get past this'.

Mark stayed with his single friend Paul in his apartment for the next 2 days, Paul was a good mate but the apartment was just too small, just one bedroom so Mark was on the couch, no privacy for either of them really and Paul started making noises about Mark moving out.

Mark, sent Sam a text asking if he could call to talk to her, the reply was short and not sweet, "No, sorry not ready for that."

No encouraging signs, nothing to give him any optimism. Mark understood that it was difficult for Paul, he'd been good to let him stay but he needed an alternative.

All his married mates had made it clear their wives wouldn't tolerate him being in their house after his Brighton exhibition, ended up calling his mum asking if he could stay with her while he was sorting things out with Sam.

"Trouble in paradise kid? I saw the video you utter plumb, I thought I'd brought you up better than that son" his Mum couldn't help giving him a piece of her mind.

"So, Sam has thrown you out. I don't blame her, you showed her no respect with that stunt and all your idiot friends are sharing it on social media. Brainless son, just brainless. Anyway, get your skinny little ass over here, of course, you can stay with your old mum. I'm going to try to talk to Sam about letting you back in the house, but don't count on it, this will have hurt her, you might as well have taken a full-page advert in The Sun."

"I know mum, it was such a dumb thing to do, I had my beer goggles on, everything looks better through them, and I didn't think Sam would ever know. I'm a real dumbass, I keep getting into trouble but usually people take pity on the fool, but this time Sam is really pissed off with me. The thing is I've no idea how to make things right with her."

Sam was not sure how she was going to get past this, what Mark had done was so public that she was very publicly embarrassed, she was really angry that he put her in this position, they had been married for 15 years and she really did love him despite the fact that he was a silly sod who got in and out of trouble, with almost equal alacrity.

Usually, but not this time, this time he'd really fucked up, not helped by the fact that his asshole buddies had all thought it was so hilarious that they'd spread what he'd done all over social media.

There couldn't have been any of his friends that hadn't seen it and shared it to other friends. What the fuck could she do that didn't make her look like a fool to everyone for tolerating the disrespect.

All she could think of was getting some sort of revenge, but what good was revenge if nobody knew about it?

She could fuck a hundred guys but if nobody knew... she'd still looked like the little lady whose husband fucked about with big-titted sluts while she stayed at home.

Eventually it occurred to her that the only revenge that would see them in some way "balanced" would be her screwing someone, having it filmed and sending it to all their friends. However, could Mark live with that? He made the problem; he should live with whatever she needed to do to over this.

Time for them to talk, because she had racked her brains and had no other thoughts of what could get her past what Mark did. If he didn't like it, he could make his decision if he preferred divorce.

She sent him the briefest of texts: Come and talk to me tonight.

Mark finished work and arrived at their home; he rang the doorbell. Given what had happened he did not feel he should just walk in. Nobody answered, he realised that Sam's shift would probably finish for another 45 minutes, so should he let himself in or come back later?

He decided to go to a nearby pub and wait for an hour, Sam should be home by then. Yes, that was probably for the best.

Well, yes a good plan for most people but remember Mark is a dickhead, two hours later on his fourth pint, his phone buzzed and he saw it was a text from Sam.

Boy was she angry: "Where the hell are you? I thought you wanted to talk to me, fuck you, don't bother coming. Stay away from me you prick, if you don't care then neither do I."

"His beer-scrambled mind thought, oh fuck it, I suppose there is no point trying to talk to her now, so just replied "Sorry, I fucked up again.", and finished his pint.

He went back to his mother's house, feeling pretty dumb. When she saw him looking disconsolate, she said, "I assume the talk didn't end well with Sam?"

"End well? It didn't even get started, I messed up again Mum, imagine that." He explained what had happened.

"Oh Mark, you are a numbskull, she really must feel as if you don't care about your marriage, do you? It doesn't look like it."

Mark had felt like shit since he'd got Sam's message, in his mind he'd just lost track of time a little, no malice in it, why could nobody ever give him a break. What didn't get through his dumb head was that people were constantly giving him breaks on account of his obviously stupidity, even if it was all more or less innocent with never any harm intended.

It was six weeks later at 6:30 at his mother's house, the were sitting down for dinner when there was a knock on the door, Mark's mum answered and said, it's someone official for you son.

The man in the business suit asked, "Are you Mr Mark Harris?"

Mark nodded yes and was told, "You've been served."

Mark looked confused, "What does that mean?" he looked enquiringly at the suit.

It means there is a legal document in the envelope I passed to you, and you have officially received it.

"And...?" asked Mark.

"Are you serious Mr Harris? These are divorce documents I've served you with on the request of your wife's solicitor."

"Divorce? Holy sweet fuck. She must be mad at me still. OK, so what am I supposed to do now? Go and talk to her?"

"My advice Mr Harris would be to get a solicitor, show him or her these documents, it seems it's too late to talk to your wife."

"Really? Does she not want to talk to me? We've been married for 15 years and I love her. I'm not the sharpest pencil in the box, I just love her and don't know how to explain the stupid thing I did ... and you say she won't talk to me? Fuck."

"Sir, when people serve a divorce petition, it usually means the talking is over. It is probably best to get a solicitor who will speak to her solicitor and sort things out."

"Oh right, so the two solicitors will mend things and then I can go home, is that right? Oh... I think I maybe don't understand judging by the look on your face. Am I fucked then?"

Mark looked forlorn; the process server looked at him with a degree of sympathy whilst trying to remember if he ever served anyone so utterly naïve.

"Get a solicitor Mr Harris, you need someone to help."

When Mark hadn't turned up when Sam had said she was ready to talk, she'd torn strips off him for being a daft wanker who didn't seem to either care or do the right thing.

He took her literally when she had texted, "Stay away from me you prick." Nuance was a word Mark had no idea of the meaning of, never mind how to spell it.

He assumed that Sam would contact him again when she got over her strop and she was finally ready to talk. She never called, he left her to it, afraid to piss her off further, he just waited and waited. He was breaking his heart, he really missed being with Sam.

Sam too was waiting, they were each waiting for the other to make contact, she thought he had fucked up the last meeting, so he could grovel back to her.

Meanwhile being as mad as a box of frogs, Mark thought she wanted him to stay away and thought that he was respecting her wishes, whilst feeling hurt at the separation from his wife.

Eventually Sam thought, fuck him, if he doesn't want to talk, maybe a divorce threat might bring him to his senses. So, she had a solicitor serve Mark.

Another 6 weeks went by, still nothing from Mark. Sam asked her solicitor if he had heard anything and was shocked to hear that Mark had just told his solicitor, "I want you to just sort it out please."

His solicitor asked, "but are you ok with the terms?" and Mark had said "I'm OK if you think it's OK, I was told you would fix everything, and I don't have to speak to anyone."

A month later Mark was shocked to be told that the divorce had been approved and the decree absolute should confirm the divorce is final within 2-3 weeks.

He went to his solicitor's office and asked to see the solicitor for a chat and was shown in after a short wait.

"When do you fix things with my wife? I'm worried about the letter I got saying the divorce will be final in 2-3 weeks. Look, I'm sorry, I'm not the brightest star in the universe, my friends think I'm a couple of slices short of the full loaf, people tell me that most of the time it looks like the lights are on but there is nobody home, so have patience. When does this all get sorted out so I can go back to live with my wife?"

15 minutes later Mark walked out of the solicitor's office broken and distraught having been told that everything is finished the divorce is completed other than the final decree. When he told the solicitor that the man who had served him said to get a solicitor and he would sort everything out, that Mark had thought that he would sort everything out with his wife so he could go home, his solicitor had given him a pitying look and said I'm sorry Mark I had no idea that you didn't understand, you said it was OK when I ask you about the terms of the divorce.

Later that night Mark finally realised that he had got everything wrong, right from the minute he pulled that stupid stunt in Brighton. Even someone as dumb as Mark understood that all he could do now is to try to talk to Sam and explain how he'd got things so wrong.

The following evening about an hour after work, Mark showed up at the restaurant where Sam worked but was told that she hadn't worked there for the last 4 weeks. The owner told Mark that he had heard that Sam had left town because she couldn't live with the constant reminders from all their friends, male and female kept reminding her that her husband was now a porn star.

The social media companies had quickly taken down the video of his tit-wank from Stella with the huge tits, but some of Mark's idiot friends had posted it on some porn sites and the links were shared far and wide.

Sam's life had been made unbearable, her husband obviously didn't give a shit about the marriage and hadn't contacted her in months despite being served with divorce papers.

Indeed, he'd just signed the one-sided divorce petition that had been intended as a wake-up call. He had just ended their marriage without a word, didn't even fight the claim that gave her the house and their savings. How anyone could accept those terms was beyond her or her solicitor's understanding, but he'd just agreed and signed, so fuck him.

Sam was selling the house and had already left town, leaving the solicitor with power of attorney to act in the sale. As a final act of irritation at her stupid husband she told the solicitor not to tell Mark where she had gone to live.

He tried talking to friends, nobody knew where Sam had gone, some were reluctant to talk to him, blaming him for breaking Sam's heart with his stupid stunt, others were friendly enough but just had no news to help him.

Trouble piled upon trouble, it just kept getting worse, Mark was bewildered and had no idea what he could do. He knew he loved Sam, and he felt his life was over without her. He knew that in 10 days' time the divorce would be final, he couldn't cope.

Sam had moved to London and moved in with her sister until she could settle somewhere. She felt lonely, things had just got out of hand with Mark and his idiot friends had messed things up completely sharing their videos of him tit-fucking that tramp.

She knew that the divorce was almost final and she had resolved to go back to Brighton and have a final attempt to talk to Mark that weekend, she'd booked a fast train on the Saturday morning, it was almost at Brighton just one last station at which it didn't stop, Preston Park, then she'd look for the silly sod and see if they had a future.

As the train when through Preston Park there was an almighty noise as the driver applied the now squealing breaks, some people who were standing were thrown off their feet.

Clearly it had been a major incident but there was no immediate announcement other than there had been an accident.

What Sam had no way of knowing is that as the train reached the station, Mark had walked off the platform right in front of the horrified driver and died instantly.

Daft Wanker.