Cheaters Gallery Ep 04 Linda

Adrestia Rhamnousia first appeared in "The Cheating Zone 03: Lori," as "Dr. A," and appeared in a couple other episodes of that series. I decided to feature her in a series of her own.

Like "The Cheating Zone," each episode in this series can be read as a separate story.

Astute readers will no doubt recognize this is yet another story based on GeorgeAnderson's epic, "

February Sucks

." To be more precise, it's based on my own take on that work, "

February Sucks -- Big Time

." At last count, I believe there are something like 25 stories based on GeorgeAnderson's original tale.

This story, however, asks the question, "what if..." As in, what if Jim and Linda had advance warning? What would they do?

Since this story relies somewhat on "February Sucks -- Big Time," the passages that are used from that tale are presented here in italics. There is also a reference to events that took place in "

Greg and Allie 03: February's Curse

." Max appears in my series, "Max Burnage."

As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I moderate comments.) And remember, this is a work of fiction, meaning that it is not real in any way, shape, matter or form.

...

In case you haven't quite figured it out yet, February sucks. Big time. Cold weather, snow, you name it. If I could ban one month every year, it would be February. But you know the old saying, "if" can be the biggest word in the dictionary.

I had planned on taking my wife, Linda, out for Valentine's Day. But fate stepped in and the whole town ended up getting shut down overnight. So we stayed in with the kids. Don't get me wrong, we enjoyed the time with family, and ended up watching "Frozen" for the gazillionth time. But the kids had fun, and yes, Linda and I did get to connect.

Later that month, Linda and I had

collapsed against each other in the sofa in the living room after finally getting Emma and Timmy down for the night, when her phone rang. I growled and uttered something, but I don't remember what it was.

"It's Dee, I have to get this," she said. We had a loose circle of five couples we hung out or went out with from time to time. We had all met as married couples, so there were no uncomfortable "back when you were single" moments. We all had the same ideas about fidelity -- that is, you just did it, it simply wasn't negotiable. At least I thought so at the time.

That way when we went out, we could dance with each other's spouses if we wanted some variety, and know we were safe. We were closest to Dee and her husband Dave. She and Linda were almost what you might call "best friends forever." Linda made an "I'll keep this short" gesture as she answered the phone.

I could see Linda getting more excited as she talked with Dee. She was all but glowing when she ended the call and plopped herself into my lap.

"So what was that all about?" I asked. My face couldn't help reflecting her smile.

"Well, my dear husband," she said with a smirk. "I know you think this horrible February has gone on just about long enough."

"You got that right," I said, reaching for my glass of wine. Linda grabbed my wrist to stop me, and firmly placed my hand on her slender waist.

"Well, we've been bemoaning the fact that not only is this the worst February in the history of the human race, we have to put up with an extra day of it," she said.

Something about that didn't reconcile with the smile on her face and I told her so.

"That's because Dee had this wonderful idea," she said. "The extra day of horribleness is on a Friday. What if we all got together, got sitters for the kids, had a really nice dinner, then some dancing at a good club, and then had hotel rooms for the night? That way we could get a little bit crazy and not worry about driving home, and we would end this horrid month right." I liked the idea, but had a couple questions.

"What about getting from the club back to the hotel? Wouldn't we have to drive?" I asked. Smack me if you want, but I'm almost always the guy who asks what can possibly go wrong with a plan.

"That's the best part, Jim," she said, sounding excited. "You know the Madison uptown? We've eaten there, remember? There's a dance club some of Dave's co-workers go to in the next block over. They have a live band coming in on Friday night, and there's no cover if you eat at the Madison! Oh, and Phil and Jane have already asked Mrs. Porter to take their kids overnight, and they say she's fine with ours, too."

"Hmmm, I have to think about this," I said, acting cerebral. I really didn't, but I knew if I acted like there was a concern, she would find a way to convince me. Instead, she grabbed a sofa pillow and bashed me over the head with it.

"Ow! Okay, okay, I've thought about it. Let's do this. But there's one condition," I told her.

"What's that?" Linda was looking at me suspiciously. I took her sweet face between my hands, and looked into her blue eyes.

"You wear the dress you bought for Valentine's Day, that I still haven't seen," I said.

"As you wish, my lord," she said with a smile. "Your wish is my command."

It was blue. The dress, that is. Don't ask me to describe what kind of blue it was because I can't. All I can tell you is that it made her blue eyes look like they would glow in the dark. It was long sleeved and high necked, and the skirt came below her knees, but it was anything but a granny dress.

Two days before the big night, I came home from work and looked through the mail Linda had set on my desk. Bills, more bills, junk mail, advertisements, what have you. But there was something else. A fairly large envelope addressed to Jim and Linda Carlisle -- us. By name. I couldn't help but note the lettering was done in a very meticulous calligraphy and it seemed to have been done by hand and not by a machine. It was from something called "Rhamnousia Gallery." I was tempted to toss it in the trash, but something in the back of my mind said, "open it." So I did.

The letter said that Linda and I were cordially invited to a private personal exhibit and further said we were to appear at the gallery at 6:00 pm the next evening. No dress code was stipulated. At first, I thought this was one of those deals where you go for something "personal" only to get a pitch for a timeshare in Outer Slobbovia someplace. I looked and saw nothing that indicated this was a sales pitch and there was nothing asking for a donation. I showed it to Linda.

"Have you ever heard of this place?" I asked. She shook her head.

"No, never," she said. "Are you sure this isn't some gimmick? Maybe this is just a way to lure us into donating money or something."

"I looked and saw nothing to indicate that," I said. "And there's nothing asking for donations or anything else."

"What the hell," Linda said, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe it's for real. What could it hurt? If we don't like what we see, we can always leave. Tell you what, I'll call Mrs. Porter and see if she'll look after the kids till we get back. You can drive me in to work and pick me up afterward and we'll go from there."

Linda made the call and Mrs. Porter graciously said she'd look after the kids for us, so it was settled. The next day, we left just a bit early so I could drop Linda off and get to work on time. After work, I picked Linda up and we headed for the address on the invitation.

We pulled up to the gallery, a large Victorian-style house that looked like it was at least 100 years old. We made our way to the front door, which opened just as we stepped on the porch. A young, attractive blonde woman stood in the doorway.

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle," she said. "I'm Dr. Adrestia Rhamnousia, and this is my gallery. Please step inside." Linda and I looked at each other for a moment then stepped inside. I looked around and saw a number of portraits on the wall. All of them appeared to be of individuals in various stages of distress.

"What kind of gallery is this?" I asked.

"It's a very special gallery, Jim," the blonde said. "There's nothing like it in the world. I'm sorry, may I call you Jim?"

"Of course," I said.

"Thank you," she said. "And please call me Adrestia, or Dr. A, if you choose. Most people find that easier."

"So, you're really a doctor?" Linda asked.

"Yes," the woman said. "I have doctorates in multiple disciplines." I wondered how that was possible considering her apparent youth.

"Age and appearance has nothing to do with accomplishments, Jim," she said, almost as if reading my mind. "Trust me, I'm much older than I appear," she added with a smile. She led us to a set of large double doors. Opening them, she ushered us inside. We walked in to find a covered portrait on an easel sitting in front of two antique chairs separated by a small table.

"Please have a seat," Dr. A said, motioning to the two chairs. We sat down and watched as she took her place next to the portrait. "What you are about to see may surprise and perhaps shock you," she said. "Do not worry, however. All will be explained." With that, she lifted the cover off the portrait. It would be an understatement to say we were shocked at what we saw.

The portrait showed Linda in her blue dress -- the new one she had never worn before -- standing up, her dainty hand in the hand of another man. I recognized the man right off. Marc LaValliere, star tight end for the Sharks, the local pro football team.

The look she gave him was one of lust and adoration -- the kind of look she usually reserved for me. It was the look that said nothing else mattered in her universe except the man she was gazing upon. Worse than that, it was the look that said, "I'm going to rock your world in bed." I studied the picture further.

Behind her was another man -- me -- dressed in the clothes I planned to wear for our date. The look on my face was one of shock. I didn't know which was worse -- the look of adoration Linda was giving LaValliere in the portrait, or the look of shock and humiliation on my face. Linda and I looked at each other for a moment, and I could feel my face burning with embarrassment.

"Please, don't be embarrassed," Dr. A said. "I know you have a number of questions and I'm prepared to answer all of them, although, you may not like what I have to say."

"How did you get this portrait?" I asked. "My wife has never even worn that dress, and she's never been with... that man." Dr. A nodded her head.

"I know," she said. "Please come to my office and I'll try to explain." We got up and followed Dr. A up a flight of stairs and into a small office that was crammed full of books and scrolls. She invited us to take a seat in two chairs sitting in front of her desk and walked around to a credenza that sat behind her desk.

"Care for some tea?" she asked. "It's a special blend."

"Yes, please," Linda said nervously. Dr. A smiled and poured two cups of tea and handed them to us. We each took a tentative sip and found the tea refreshing. Smiling, Adrestia sat down.

"Please open your minds and allow me to explain something before you ask your questions," she said. "What you just saw was a snapshot from your very near future, perhaps 24 to 30 hours in your future. It is, or rather, will be, a pivotal point in your relationship. That is to say, it WILL happen. There is no way around it. What matters is how you deal with it."

"Wait," I said. "You're telling us that what we saw in that portrait is going to happen tomorrow, no matter what?"

"Yes," she said.

"What if we decide not to go out tomorrow night as we planned?" I asked.

"Then you will simply be putting off the inevitable," Dr. A said. "Like I said, it WILL happen."

"Why are you showing this to us?" Linda asked. "Who ARE you, exactly?" Dr. A smiled.

"I have been called many things in the past," she said. "Nemesis and Tyr are just two of the names I have been called. I am sure that others think of me in much less polite terms, especially those who have experienced my brand of justice. Let me explain a bit as this is something rather new to me as well. Normally, I don't get involved in a situation unless I'm asked or invited. By then, the dirty deed has been done and all that's left for me to do is dispense justice. My husband suggested I take a different approach this time, a more pro-active approach."

"Is that your husband?" Linda asked, pointing to a small photo on her desk that showed her with a smiling man wearing a fedora. Dr. A smiled and picked up the photo.

"Yes, that's him," she said. "His name is Max, and he's much more than just my better half. He's a confidant and a trusted ally, someone who shares my love for justice. He's the one who suggested I be more pro-active in this matter." She set the photo back down and looked at the couple sitting across from her.

"You see, we have had our eye on Mr. LaValliere for quite some time," Dr. A explained. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but he's something of a serial seducer who primarily targets married women." Linda looked at me, shocked. Adrestia continued.

"About a month ago, he targeted another young, attractive woman, a nurse married to a self-employed businessman," she said. "He was determined to get her in his bed, but they were able to ward off his advances. Finally, the husband demonstrated what could befall Mr. LaValliere if he persisted. LaValliere wisely backed off and we thought that maybe he had learned his lesson. Nevertheless, we continued monitoring him."

"You've been monitoring him?" I asked. Adrestia nodded her head.

"Yes," she said. "Let me show you something." She turned to her computer and fired up a large monitor on the wall. "Watch the monitor." As we watched, we could see LaValliere talking with a couple of his team mates.

"So, Marc, you going out with us tomorrow night?" one of the other men asked.

"Hell yeah," LaValliere said. "It's been a long time since I've gotten a good piece of ass."

"What, that cheerleader you banged the other day wasn't good enough for you?" the other team mate asked, causing them all to laugh.

"Aw, she was alright, I guess," LaValliere said. "But there's nothing like picking up some prime married pussy, especially when she's out with her husband."

"Didn't you get into some trouble the last time you tried that shit?" the first team mate asked. LaValliere shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, a little bit," he said. "But what are the chances that the next husband will be some kind of a mixed martial arts champion? Give me a break. Most of these guys are wimps. There's no way any of 'em will come after me. Besides, if that happens, I'll just kick the wimp's ass and walk away with his woman anyway." They all laughed at that. A real class act, I thought sarcastically.

Linda and I looked at each other, shocked. This wasn't the Marc LaValliere we had heard about in the news. According to all the reports, he was a highly respected man, involved in all kinds of activities and charities. Most of the community looked up to him as a hero. What we heard, though, was something quite different.

"Not exactly the Marc LaValliere you've heard about in the news, is he?" Dr. A asked.

"No, not at all," Linda said.

"So when did this happen?" I asked.

"This is in real-time," Adrestia said.

"You're having him followed?" I asked. Dr. A chuckled at that.

"Not hardly," she said. "I'll just say it's part of my job and leave it at that."

"So, what happens next? After the portrait you showed us, that is?" I asked.

"Well, that's where things get a bit... dicey," Adrestia said. "I can show you any point in the past, and anything happening right now, just as you saw. The future, however, is a different ball game. Yes, I can glimpse a few hours into the future, but in all honesty, there are an infinite number of possible outcomes. It's quite literally up to you. I can, however, show you some possible outcomes. Would you be interested in that?"

"Yes," Linda and I said at the same time.

"Alright, follow me, please," Adrestia said, standing up. We got up and followed her out the door and up another flight of stairs. When we reached the third floor, we saw a hallway with what looked like four alcoves on each side.

"This is a new addition to the gallery," Dr. A said. "I call it the 'Hall of Possibilities.' Each alcove will give you a glimpse into what could happen, depending on your actions. Remember, these are just possible outcomes. Nothing is set in stone... yet. All you have to do is step into the alcove and the scenario will play out in front of you. You will not be able to interact with anyone or anything and no one will interact with you. You may experience a bit of vertigo, so keep one hand on the side rail at all times. When you feel you have seen enough, simply take one step back. Any questions?"

"No," I said.

"Very well," she said. "I'll monitor your progress and come get you when you are finished." As we watched, she went into another room on the floor and closed the door behind her. Linda and I looked at each other for a moment, shrugged our shoulders as if to say, "what the hell," and walked to the alcove marked, "1."

"You ready for this?" I asked.

"No, but I feel we have to do it," she said. "Remember, none of this is real."

"I know, but I'm still just a bit nervous," I said.

"Me too," she said in response. "Here we go." We held hands, grabbed the side rail and stepped into the first alcove. The glass in front of us and on each side shimmered briefly before showing us what looked like the inside of a club.

It was as if we were watching a movie through a pair of virtual reality glasses. I was overcome with the sense that we were actually there. I saw people walking around, milling about, drinking, and heard them talking just as if we were there. I looked to my side and saw Linda doing the same as me. I looked back at the scene in front of us and saw nine people at a table -- Linda in her blue dress and the other four couples, including Dee and her husband, Dave.

Apparently, I was either getting something from the bar or in the men's room. I saw Dave ask the Linda in the "movie" to dance, and heard her response.

...

"I'd love to, Dave, and I would another time, but I want to make tonight special for Jim and me. I'm only dancing with him tonight," she said.

Was I proud? Happy? You'd better believe it. I distributed the wings and whispered into Linda's ear.

"So is it time to leave yet?" I asked.

"Right after you brought a fresh plate of wings? What are you thinking? We'll both need our energy for what I have planned," I said, raising an eyebrow. She gave me that look again, and held my hand under the table.

A few minutes later, the band took a break. In the relative quiet, we could hear loud laughter from another table, and turned to look.

"Hey, isn't that Marc LaValliere?" Phil asked, craning his neck to see around me.

"It is, it is!" Dee squealed excitedly. Marc LaValliere was the star tight end on the Sharks, our city's professional football team. Unlike many others on the team, he made his year-round home here. He had the reputation of being a genuinely good guy, and he was as well known for his community activities as for his exploits on the field. Marc became the main topic of conversation at our table, as the guys talked about his football feats and the women praised his good works and good nature.