Darla 4

I stood at her grave, looking down on the simple headstone that provided only my deceased wife's name above the dates of her birth and death. It had been some time since she died, but the pain was still there, just like it had happened yesterday.

My name is Joe Henson, a retired Marine Reserve officer and my wife was Darlene. I hate long intros in these stories so I'll just give the highlights. I enlisted in the Corps in 1975, a couple weeks before the Vietnam Era cutoff. I served as an enlisted man in the regular Corps until 1985 when I went Reserve. I had been married once before but got divorced after I caught her screwing some asshole in our base-provided home after returning from a six-month deployment.

The only good things to come from that union were our two children, Mike and Melissa. After becoming a reservist, I applied for and was approved for Officer Candidate School. Fortunately, I had managed to finish my bachelor's degree in electrical engineering and had secured a nice job at an aerospace company that did contract work for the Defense Department.

I met Darlene at a company function and we hit it off immediately, even though she was nearly ten years my junior. Her and my kids became close and she seemed okay with my new status as a Reserve officer. Back then, reservists served two weekends a month and two weeks out the year. We dated for a few months before I popped the question and she agreed.

We had a terrific wedding which of course included a Marine honor guard and set about making a new life. And what a life it was. I was never so happy in my entire life as I was those first years we were married.

We tried to have children, but that didn't work out too well. After two miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy, the doctor suggested she get her tubes tied. We tearfully agreed and carried on with our lives, occasionally discussing the possibility of adoption.

By the time Desert Storm came around, I had just made Captain and was serving as a battalion staff officer. A few years later 9/11 happened and all hell broke loose.

By 2008, our unit had already been deployed to Iraq twice and it was after my return from the second deployment that I learned our marriage went into the toilet. By then, I was a Major serving as the battalion executive officer.

Until then, Darlene gave no indication that there was a problem. Far from it - she had shown herself to be as true and faithful as the day is long. We always reached out to each other at least twice a week with letters and emails when I was deployed overseas and we always tried to talk on the phone once a month. It wasn't always easy to do given the circumstances of combat, but we did our best to stay connected. Our love was that strong and secure, or at least I thought so at the time.

Toward the end of this deployment, though, I noticed the frequency of her letters had decreased considerably. And I found that I was never able to reach her on the phone the few times I was able to attempt calling. Again, I attributed that to the conflict.

As usual, I emailed her several times before my return to make sure she knew to meet me at the airport. I tried calling and left several messages, but never got a reply. At first I chalked it up to time differences, but was surprised when she wasn't at the airport to pick me up.

I ended up taking a taxi home and was even more surprised when I walked into my house. No, Darlene wasn't getting laid in the house and there wasn't a strange car in the driveway. Just the opposite.

The house was quiet - far too quiet. Almost deathly quiet. I spotted a note on the kitchen counter near the coffee pot, the one item I seemed to gravitate to first when coming home.

The note read: "Sorry I missed you. Be at 11560 Riverside Drive at 11:00 pm tonight. Everything will be explained. Bring the chip."

The short note was simply signed, "D" - no declaration of love, nothing. Next to the note was something resembling a poker chip with the number 50 engraved on it.

At least there's a note. Maybe, I reasoned, Darlene had gotten herself a job. That made sense, and we had discussed the possibility of her working while I was deployed.

So I set about squaring my gear away - It was still quite early, about 9:00 am, so I had well over 12 hours. I was curious to know what was at the address she gave me, so I jumped on Google and checked out the address, clicking on a link to the business web site.

Holy crap, I thought. The address belonged to a seedy dockside strip club called the "Shady Lady." The club also boasted a members-only VIP section where it seemed that live sex shows were the main venue. The site showed four "featured performers," one of whom was obviously Darlene. The site, however, called her "Darla, the Creampie Gangbang Queen."

I knew what a gangbang was - who doesn't - but I had never seen the term "creampie" before, so I Googled it and nearly threw up. What the hell had my wife done?

I went back to the Shady Lady website and noticed there was a link on the picture of "Darla." I clicked , and was taken to a page that offered preview pictures and videos. Naturally, I had to take a look, and I now wished I hadn't.

There was my dear 40-something wife, getting fucked in every way imaginable. Every picture showed her with a cock in her pussy, often with another cock in her mouth at the same time. Her face and body was covered in cum and sweat. One picture even showed her with two cocks inside her pussy at the same time. It was clear both men had just climaxed inside her.

The preview videos were just as bad. She went from one cock to another like they were candy, letting the men finish inside her. Another video showed her taking two cocks inside her stretched out pussy at the same time. From her moans, it was clear she loved what she was doing.

Below the previews was a matrix that showed pictures of blue poker chips like the one I had. They were numbered one through 50 and were also linked. The caption said anyone who wanted to fuck Darla could click on a chip and reserve his space at one of her four weekly performances.

Translation: She had been fucking 50 guys a night four nights a week for who knows how long.

I shut down the computer, sickened at what I had just seen. What had happened to my once demure bride? The marriage was over, but I needed answers.

I went through the mail hoping to find something but found nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual bills and ads for insurance and the like. I checked the phone for messages, and found one that intrigued me. It was a message from a Dr. Marks at the base hospital urging Darlene or I to call him as soon as possible. I got the number and called back, getting the good doctor on the second ring.

"Good morning, Major," he said. "I'm glad you called, I've been trying to get in touch with either you or your wife for the last few days."

"I just got back from Iraq," I told him, "and I haven't seen or talked to my wife either. What can I do for you?"

"Major, this is too personal to discuss over the phone. When can you get into my office?" I looked at the clock and realized I had plenty of time to shower, shave and change uniform.

"Let me get cleaned up a bit and I'll be right over," I said. He thanked me and we hung up. Why would the doctor want to see Darlene, I wondered.

It only took me a few minutes to clean up, shave and get dressed in my class "C" uniform, which consisted of green trousers and khaki short sleeve shirt. I double-checked my oak leaves and ribbons to make sure everything was right, put on my black dress shoes, grabbed my "piss-cutter" garrison cap and headed out the door.

An hour later, I was escorted into Dr. Marks' office and was greeted by an older gentleman wearing eagles. Dr. Marks, it seemed, was a Navy Captain and outranked me by two levels. He got up, shook my hand and motioned for me to sit down.

"Thank you for coming in, Major," he said. "Tell me, and I know this is very personal, but I need to know, when was the last time you had sex with your wife?"

"A year ago, before I left for Iraq," I told him. "Why?" He pulled a sheet of paper from a folder on his desk.

"Three months ago, your wife came in for some blood work. We found several STDs and gave her antibiotics to deal with those, but we just got some other results back. I'm sorry to tell you this, but your wife is HIV positive," he said, handing me the test results.

"We need to know everyone she's had relations with in the last four to six months."

"Good luck with that," I told Dr. Marks.

"Why?" he asked.

"It seems that in my absence, Darlene has become a sex performer," I said. "I just found out myself this morning before I called you. If what I saw is true, she's probably had unprotected sex with as many as 3,400 men in the last four months."

"My God," Dr. Marks said. "That means we're looking at a possible pandemic. I'd better get the CDC involved. Where is your wife performing at?"

"Someplace called the 'Shady Lady,' down by the docks. She performs four nights a week according to their website and she's expecting me to show up tonight at 11:00."

"Whatever you do, don't have any relations with her, Major," he said. "I suspect they'll raid the place and shut it down. Your wife will have to be taken into custody and hospitalized."

"When do you think this'll all happen?" I asked.

"It takes a bit of time to get all the pieces in place, but it could happen within two or three days," he said. "I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Major. I know it's not what you had hoped to come home to."

"Is there any hope for her?" I asked.

"There's hope, but let's face it, this is for all practicable purposes a death sentence. Sure, there's lots of drugs she can take, but depending on her overall health, which I'd say is probably bad, it doesn't look good. What we need to do now is contain the infection," he said.

"One last thing, Major," he said. "Maybe I'm out of line here but I think this needs to be addressed. I know the Marine Corps takes a dim view of officers' wives who comport themselves the way yours has."

"Yeah, it's hard to lead Marines in combat if you can't keep things under control at home," I said.

"The Corps also looks at how officers in your position deal with issues like this. I know you probably want to divorce her and kick her to the curb," he said. I nodded in agreement.

"Consider this. As bad as the HIV is, a divorce in her condition will probably kill her. I'm sure you don't want that, do you?" he asked.

"It's tempting," I said.

"Major, I know this is hard, but you really don't have all the information. Maybe she was drugged or maybe she's being blackmailed.

"I want you to also consider putting her into a treatment facility. It may be a lifetime thing, I don't know. Your Tricare and your medical insurance at work should cover it. Let her get the help she needs, get stabilized, if you will. Try to work things out with her. What is that quote now? Something about justice being tempered with mercy?"

"That was General John A. Lejeune," I said. "He once said that 'justice tempered with mercy' does not mean a slackening of discipline. I understand what you're saying, sir. Honor, courage and commitment. I get it."

"Good," he said. "Do what you have to do, but not out of anger or vengeance."

"Thank you," I said, shaking his hand.

"Semper Fi," he said, smiling.

"Oorah," I replied.

Dr. Marks strongly suggested (which was an euphemism for an order) I get screened for STDs, even though I had not had sex for over a year, just to be safe. I took his 'advise,' gave up the required bodily fluids and headed home.

I still had a lot of time before I had to be at the "Shady Lady," so I changed into something more casual, grabbed a beer and sat in my den to consider my options. In no time at all, my emotions overwhelmed me and I found myself crying like a baby. Yeah, Marines have emotions too. Soon, I had fallen asleep, dreaming about the early years of my marriage to Darlene.

I woke up about 9:30, showered and dressed for my visit to the "Shady Lady." I decided to wear a Marine Corps t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I finally got to the club at 10:45 and walked up to the front door, where I was stopped by a very large man who was obviously carrying. I showed him the blue poker chip and told him Darla invited me. He smirked and waved me in.

I wasn't much for bars and it took a while for me to get where I needed to be. The VIP section where Darlene would be performing was upstairs and consisted of a series of tables placed in a semi-circle around a large stage. Above the stage were several very large screens, apparently intended to make sure everyone could see what was going on.

There were a few people already in the club and I looked around to see if I could spot my wife. I couldn't, but was met by a large, balding man in a cheesy pinstripe suit. He shook my hand, escorting me to my table.

"So, you're Darla's husband," he said. "I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you."

"Yeah, I'm Darlene's husband. And you are..."

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. I'm Salvatore Giuseppe, the owner of this establishment. Please, join me in a drink," he said, waving over a waitress who wore only a tiny g-string. "What's your pleasure," he asked.

"Bud light," I said. Salvatore nodded in approval and ordered a gin and tonic.

"Look," he said, his demeanor changing somewhat. "I know you're a bad-ass Marine and all - I've checked you out. Two Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star, a Silver Star, Navy and Marine Corps Medal, served in almost every major deployment since Vietnam. Your reputation precedes you. Do us both a favor here, okay? No hero shit. Seriously."

"Look, Salvatore," I said quietly, "I didn't survive two tours in Iraq by being an idiot. This is your ground, you have me out-manned and outgunned. Yeah, I consider myself a hard-charging Marine, but I'm not stupid."

He nodded his head in appreciation.

"I just want to know how my wife ended up being a gangbang slut for you," I said.

Salvatore sat back and told me how Darlene began working for him as a waitress in the main club. He told me how he got excited watching her work the room in her short skirt and skimpy uniform.

"Don't take this wrong, Major, but your wife is one hot woman. No, I never slept with her, but I was sure tempted. Truth is, I don't sleep with the hired help," he said. "I do, however, know how to use my assets to make money. And your wife has certainly been a cash cow."

I resisted the urge to rip his head off and asked how Darlene became such a slut. I specifically wanted to know if she had been drugged or blackmailed.

"As you know, there's a lot of date rape drugs out there. I'll be honest, she was drugged the first time - not by me. And of course, everything here is recorded on video. Your wife was upset at first but she really got into the role. And yes, it was just a role for her, something she used to escape her loneliness. Then she threw herself into it. Now she truly enjoys it, even though she makes a ton of money from the tips and her cut of the videos."

He placed a stack of DVDs on the table. "Here's a box set for you, on the house. That, right there would normally cost someone $300.00."

Curious, I picked up the DVDs. There were, from what I gathered, over 50 hours of my wife getting fucked in every way imaginable. It would come in handy if I chose to divorce her.

"How long has she been doing this?" I asked.

"She started the sex about eight months ago, the gangbang act started six months ago. She also does private parties for a very select clientele. You know, big-time government hotshots, businessmen, that sort of thing," he said.

My God, I thought. How many of those government types now have HIV because of her?

"I see Darla also gave you a complimentary spot in tonight's entertainment," Salvatore said, pointing at the blue chip in my hand. "That alone cost me about $150. You should feel privileged."

"You know, Salvatore," I said, "I appreciate your honesty, but please tell my wife I'm not into sloppy 49ths, okay? Here, you give it to someone else, maybe use it yourself, I don't care," I added, tossing the chip toward him. "Just do me a favor if you would, please."

He spread his hands. "Sure. Anything. What can I do for you?"

I pulled off my wedding ring. "Give her that. Tell her to think about it overnight and then she can come see me in the morning. We have some things to discuss."

Salvatore nodded his head in understanding. I grabbed the stack of DVDs, shook his hand and left. I never saw Darlene and had no desire to watch her perform in person. I drove home and went back to bed, my emotions in overdrive. She had a lot of explaining to do.

I was up early the next morning, nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. My personal revolver was sitting in front of me along with the DVDs Salvatore gave me and Darlene's test result.

I heard the key in the door and looked up to see Darlene walk in. She looked horrible. She had lost weight and her face was gaunt. Her once gorgeous dancer's legs now looked like shapeless sticks. It was obvious she had been crying.

"My God, Darlene, you look like shit," I said. "What the hell happened to you?" She slowly made her way to the table, obviously sore from the previous night's fucking.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Please don't give me any bullshit about it just being sex," I said. "You know better than that." Her eyes were glued to my gun.

"What's with the gun?" she asked. "Are you going to kill me now? God knows I deserve it."

"Don't be stupid," I said. "That's illegal. Besides, you stupid cow, you've already killed yourself, along with probably 3,500 others and our marriage."

I showed her the test result Dr. Marks gave me the previous day. "You're HIV positive," I told her. Those three words may as well have been a slap across the face.

"Oh my God," she whispered as she sank into a chair. "I'm going to die, aren't I? And you're going to divorce me. I may as well shoot myself now and get it over with," she said, crying.

"Look, Darlene," I said. "I'll hold off on the divorce if you check into a treatment center today."

She sat up, hopeful. "What?" she asked.

"That's right. You let me check you into a treatment center today. They can do a lot more with HIV now than they could ten years ago, and who knows, maybe someday they'll find a cure. But you also need to undergo psychological treatment as well. You'll only get that as my dependent, so I'll hold off on any divorce until you're better," I said.

"Thank you so much, I'm so sorry about all of this and I promise I'll make it up to you," she said through her tears. She got up to embrace me, but I held her off. Besides, there was no way she could unfuck all those other guys.

She stopped and lowered her head. "I understand. Look, let me just go back and get my things and come home. Then you can take me wherever you want."

"I don't know if that's wise," I told her, but she had already waved me off and was heading out the door. That's when I saw my ring on the table. She must've left it there on purpose.

That was the last time I saw Darlene alive.

I heard about it from the police officer who came by the house later that morning. From what he told me, Darlene went back to the club and was in the process of gathering her stuff. She confronted Salvatore, telling him she was HIV positive and was checking into a treatment center. Salvatore got very upset and pulled out his gun, shooting her twice in the chest and once in the head.

Police, the Health Department and the CDC showed up and shut the place down. A short gunfight ensued and Salvatore found himself severely wounded.

That was ten years ago. I've since retired from the Corps and now spend my free time fishing. Yeah, Darlene screwed up big time. I never got her side of the story and never learned why she did what she did. But I'll always have good memories of her and someday I may even watch her DVDs. She was, after all, a very sexy woman.