Do The Dots Connect Alternate End

"Oh dear, I think I've done it this time," she said, with a worried look in her eye. "You know, I'm not a dom, and he's not really a sub, this was a game we were playing for you guys. I'm afraid you got me to go too far. I have to send Sven home to his wife when we're done here, you know," she said, bending over his huddled form on the floor. She unclipped the leash. "Go on, Dave, go take care of yourself, we're done here."

He crawled off stage left, and she looked straight into the camera. "Well, we won't be trying that stunt any more. I'm sorry boys, we're done here." And the screen went black.

-----

I went to the kitchen and poured myself another drink. I realized I hadn't eaten dinner, but my stomach was in no shape to accept food. I turned off the lights in the apartment, then went back into my office. I sat in front of the computer screen in the dark and scrolled through the damning videos one more time. Ginger would be home soon, if she was really at a seminar and it was really ending when she said it would. I wanted to check one more thing. I did a few searches using Ginger as a keyword to see if there was anything else out there. I really hoped there would not be. But there, online, was Ginger.

This one was not shot in our apartment, but rather in a studio set designed to resemble a luxurious home. There was a "husband" character sitting at a computer doing work when Ginger and Sven came in through the door. They were very familiar. Sven had his hand around her waist, and she looked up into his eyes with lustful eyes. She was wearing a cute sun dress with a floral print, thin straps holding up a low-cut bodice.

"Paul," she spoke to the husband character, "this is Sven. He has been helping me with my website. We are going to go in to the bedroom and rehearse for our next scene."

"Website? You have a website?" The clueless hubby asks.

"Yes. You can come watch if you want. This is just a rehearsal, but you'll get the idea."

Sven winks at her, then shoots a shit-eating smile at "Paul." The two saunter off screen, and "Paul" hesitantly gets up to follow.

In he next scene the couple is seen peeling off each other's clothes, while sucking tongue. "Paul" leans against the door with a shocked, hangdog look. The scene progresses according to standard porn scene format. They are naked, she falls to her knees, takes his cock in her mouth, sucks him off for a bit, then crawls back on the bed so he can eat her pussy, and then they fuck in a variety of athletic positions. "Paul" watches the whole thing slack jawed, and winds up pulling out his pud and jacking off as Sven pulls out and shoots cum all over Ginger.

I left the screen there as I got up and struggled in the dark to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. I just made it. As I was flushing I heard Ginger come in the door. The lights came on and I turned and walked out of the bathroom with my face beet-red, my eyes weeping and vomit running down my chin.

"Oh my God, Paul, what's the matter? Are you sick?" she rushed to me looking worried.

I couldn't speak. I led her to my office and pointed at the computer screen. She looked, gasped, and then looked at me with sorrow in her eyes. Except I was running back to the bathroom to barf again. The site of that image on the computer screen had turned my stomach once again.

After I finished I took time to wash my face and brush my teeth before coming back out to face her. She was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water. Another glass of water sat in front of another chair. "Come on, Paul, sit down and let's talk."

I noticed then that she was wearing the same sun dress that she had been wearing in the video I had just watched. I pointed at her dress. "Did you just make another one?"

She hesitated. "Yes, David and I just did another shoot at his studio downtown."

"How many have you done?"

"This was the third."

"Did he fuck you?"

"Yes, and more. We did anal. Look, Paul, obviously this is not the way I wanted you to find out about this. I'm not sure when I was going to tell you, but I would have. I never expected to be doing porn, but after David introduced me to it with Ginger's Bedroom, I got drawn in."

"Ginger's Bedroom?"

"Yes, I was talking to David one day in the lobby while we waited for the elevator. I told him about my lingerie modeling videos, and he told me he was involved in online sales, and thought maybe he could help me. We had lunch the next day, and he pitched the idea of modeling the lingerie with sort of a soft-core erotic vibe. We created Ginger's Bedroom, and I began shooting myself in sexier activity. We went interactive with viewers able to ask me to do things, and soon I had a thriving interactive webcam sex site."

"I was playing dumb, Ginger. I stumbled across it tonight. It would be very tasty if I weren't your husband. So, how did you go from rubbing yourself to fucking online with a man not your husband?"

"One thing just led to another. David has contacts overseas, and Ginger's Bedroom became very popular in Eastern Europe, and we were selling a lot of product. After the shoot where I sucked him off, he told me I was ready for the next step. And by this time after doing those scenes with him I was developing feelings for him. He was very patient about coaching me how I could make the presentation better and improve my performance. He's a very persuasive guy and he led me along very slowly and gradually. You know when he talked me into letting him into the sessions, and how that progressed. Finally he told me about his studio downtown and what they do there, and asked me to give it a try.

"A month ago we did our first shoot there - that's the one you saw, and I found out I liked it. And I found out I like having sex with David."

"David, David. We've always known him as Dave. When the change?"

"I started calling him that after we started working closely together and I started thinking of him as a lover. I'm sorry, Paul. This is not how I expected my business to go, and I never had any idea that I would become unfaithful to you. But it has happened, and here we are."

"Well, no, actually here you are. There is no 'we.' I'm out of here."

I got up, went into the bedroom and packed myself a bag, grabbed my work materials from the office, and left. I thought maybe she'd try to convince me to stay - you know, those scenes you read where the wife cries and says she's sorry and begs him to stay and says "it's only sex" and clings to him as he walks out. But no. She just sat at the table while I bustled around. It wasn't as if she was such a cold hearted bitch that she just didn't care. It was more like she recognized that she had turned a corner and there was no turning back. The look in my eye told her all she needed to know.

As I hefted my worldly possessions and headed for the door, she said, "Goodbye, Paul. I still love you, for what it's worth."

"Yeah, I can tell," I said as the door closed behind me. I wonder how long it was before she discovered that I had left with her video camera in my computer bag.

As I was putting my bags in the trunk of my car, I saw Dave's car pull into the apartment building lot. I moved around to the far side of my car and watched and waited. He parked in the back of the lot in a darker area. I reached into the trunk and grabbed a tire iron from under the spare. I moved up behind him as he walked toward the building. He had phone buds in his ears so he didn't hear me approach. He was talking on his phone and I heard him say, "He left? Good." Those were his last words because I swung the tire iron down with all my anger-charged might and caved in the back of his head. He went down like a sack of potatoes. One of the ear buds fell out and I heard Ginger go on talking: "I never wanted to hurt him, he's a good guy." I'm not sure, but she might have been crying a little.

I dragged him back out of sight between two cars, then along the fence to the dumpster. I wasn't sure if he was dead or alive, and I didn't care. Before shoving him behind the dumpster I smashed his groin several times with the tire iron. If he survived, he wouldn't be fucking anybody's wife. I fished his phone out of his pocket. Ginger was trying to figure out why he had quit responding. "David? David?"

I put the phone on the ground and smashed it with my heel, then tossed it into the dumpster. Then I went back to my car, closed the trunk, got in and drove off. The cops will probably track me down, but at this point I really don't care.