Fade Away 4

I'm Brent Willis. At twenty nine years of age I had a real problem; a cheating wife. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

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First a disclaimer; I've never been good at English, Literature, or Social Sciences. I'm a math, economics, business guy. Don't get shitty about my inability to use flowery language or provide tantalizing descriptions of people or events because I'm a "just the facts, ma'am" type of guy.

In addition to what I described in the above paragraph I feel that I need to present to you my honest strengths and weaknesses, without false modesty for the strengths, and without downplaying or sugarcoating the weaknesses.

I'm very good looking, successful in business, trustworthy, treat everyone with respect regardless of their station in life, and have almost always been honest. I am a very considerate lover, putting my partner's satisfaction above mine. I am gentle during lovemaking – for six of the seven women who I have had intercourse with I have always been told, and believe, that this is a real plus and I left them well satisfied with every encounter. For one woman who really, really liked it rough I was a major disappointment.

Also, maybe because of some of the above characteristics, the parents of every woman I have dated have loved me. Sometimes I think that the mothers liked me better than the daughters do (ha, ha).

As far as my negatives are concerned I am hopelessly un-athletic, and I'm not very perceptive. I am easily emotionally hurt by others' negative comments or actions (I have a thin skin), and oftentimes wear my emotions on my sleeve. Despite average physical strength and dexterity I eschew physical confrontation, and I am not aggressive enough in any area of life except business and investing. Despite my lack of aggressiveness I have a real vindictive streak for people who wrong me and if there is no physical threat to me seek revenge.

Details of my interaction with the two main characters in this tale, Melissa Thompson and Doreen Bronson, in the distant past would contribute nothing to this story and would bore you, so I'll make it quick and simple.

I dated Melissa in college during my junior year, but we broke up just before summer. That was difficult for me, but not devastating since it was basically mutual – she was more commitment-averse than I was but she never hid that from me or led me on.

I met Doreen during the summer after my junior year. Melissa, Doreen and I went to different High Schools in the same metropolitan area, and all attended the closest large state University. I dated Doreen exclusively during the summer and half-way through my senior year when Melissa popped back on the scene. I dated both of them – I didn't hide it from either – until just before graduation when both gave me "shit or get off the pot" ultimatums.

It was a difficult choice. Both are beautiful and sexy, but Melissa a little more so. Both really seemed to be in love with me, but Doreen a little more so. Both are smart and come from good families (although it didn't make a difference, Melissa's family is extremely rich, Doreen's upper middle class). Sex with both of them was great, probably a little more satisfying for me with Melissa, although it seemed from Melissa's standpoint the sex was a 9 out of 10 whereas from Doreen's it was a 10. Doreen was always candid about everything; Melissa was significantly less candid, although I never caught her in any major lie.

I chose Melissa. Doreen was devastated and didn't even attend the graduation ceremony and I heard from friends that she moved out of the area shortly after graduation. I also met with Doreen's parents, Tom and Lydia Bronson, when I broke up with her since I had established a good relationship with them. They understood how sincere my affection for Doreen had been and what a hard decision it was for me, and we parted on good terms.

Melissa and I got married six months after graduation and lived in the same metropolitan area that we grew up in, in a condo purchased by her parents, Jack and Carolyn Thompson, as a wedding present.

Melissa's parents really liked me, even more so than most of the other parents of women that I dated. Melissa's mother, Carolyn, always greeted me warmly and bragged about me to her friends in front of me. Melissa's father, Jack, not only liked me but was very impressed with my business acumen. He wanted me to come to work for one of the companies he owned but I told him that I wanted to keep my business life separate from his and make my own way. I didn't ever want anyone to suggest that I got promotions or responsibilities just because I was "the son-in-law."

Even though I never worked for him, after two years of marriage to his daughter, Jack insisted that I have power of attorney over Melissa's trust fund (somewhere around $15,000,000) since she had no business acumen whatsoever. The trust fund money would be hers once she turned thirty, but I was in charge of every part of it – except for about $3,000,000 of preferred stock in one of Jack's companies which could not be touched until Melissa was thirty two, and even after that there were restrictions.

Married life agreed with me despite finding out some things about Melissa that during our courtship I had never observed – not surprising considering my lack of perceptiveness. She was more materialistic and much more concerned with her status in the community than I realized before marriage – in fact how she was viewed by rich, successful, and high-society people in our metropolitan area was one of the most important things in life to her.

Despite revelations about Melissa that were of some concern, I was happy in our marriage. Melissa seemed to be there for me when I needed her, such as vigilantly standing by me when my parents – my only relatives that I cared about – were killed in a car crash after we had been married three years.

The money I got from my parent's estate – after taxes and expenses were paid – I put in an offshore account. I never told Melissa about it, and she never asked. It wasn't money that we needed to have the lifestyle that we wanted, but it was a significant amount of money, on the order of $1,000,000. I intended to tell her about placing it in an offshore account but never got around to it – maybe there was a Freudian reason that I didn't, I don't really know.

When Melissa and I just turned twenty nine (our birthdates were only three days apart) we decided that she would go off the pill and we'd start a family, something that we always agreed upon since we got engaged. Even as unperceptive as I normally am it seemed to me that when she did go off the pill that her libido increased. Her libido had always been what I considered normal given my experience with the other six women that I had had sexual relations with before marriage, so that we normally had very good sex three or four times a week. After she went off the pill it seemed that she got more sexually aggressive and vigorous during sex, and our frequency increased to five or six times a week.

Despite the fact that she went off the pill she didn't get pregnant right away. We both understood that it would likely be at least a couple of months before she would conceive, so it didn't concern either of us.

As I previously mentioned, I treat everyone with respect which made me popular with the employees of the Country Club that Melissa, me, Jack, and Carolyn belonged to. I didn't really golf or play tennis much because I simply don't have the requisite hand-eye coordination, but I did enjoy meals there, swimming, and playing cards. Several of the employees liked and trusted me enough to come to me with business problems, and I always did my best to help them out. Perhaps the employee that I was most friendly with was Jasper, the captain of waiters in the Golf Grill.

One Saturday morning at the club, pursuant to our standard procedure, Melissa went off to her golf lesson while I intended to go swimming and relax by the pool since the week had been particularly stressful at work. I got delayed in conversation with a few people, and as I approached the locker room Jasper came up to me with a very concerned look on his face.

"Brent," he said – I insisted that all of the employees call me by my first name, although Melissa wanted them to call her "Mrs. Willis" – "could I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I replied, expecting it to be about some financial issue that he had.

Jasper led me into a private alcove, got a tear in his eye, and when with concern I asked "What's wrong?" he blurted out," I hate to have to tell you this, Brent, but your wife is cheating on you; even as we speak."

"What?" I said, aghast.

"I've suspected it for two weeks but I confirmed it today. She's with Jeremy, the assistant golf pro, in Massage Room A. Apparently the lock on the door is broken but they don't know it. I opened it up by mistake and saw them – although they didn't see me. Go look now."

I'm sure that the color drained from my face, and I almost fell to my knees; I had to hold onto a chair back for a few seconds to regain my balance. Being confrontation averse there was no way that I would challenge Melissa if I caught them, but I had to know.

I briskly walked to Massage Room A, which had a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door. I cracked it open; the lock didn't work, just as Jasper said. There was Melissa on her hands and knees on the massage table with Jeremy's cock in her pussy while she moaned "Harder, fuck me harder!" Before I closed the door I did notice that he had a condom on; but my vision quickly became blurry after that.

After I closed the door I collapsed onto the floor. My mind was in turmoil. To say that I was devastated would be the understatement of the decade. I finally regained enough awareness to realize that I needed to get out of there. As I hurriedly exited the building I went past Jasper and was able to cough out "Thanks for telling me, but do not tell anyone else under any circumstances, please," before tears formed in my eyes.

Jasper replied, with real concern in his voice, "You got it! Sorry, man."

I drove in a fog until I came across a bar that was open. It was a relatively high class bar in a nice part of town, actually the suburb that Doreen's parents lived in, near some restaurants and clubs. I almost never drank hard liquor, and rarely more than two glasses of wine a day if I drank at all. I got absolutely plastered sitting at a table by myself in a corner of the bar.

By the time that I stumbled out of the bar it was dark, and I was beyond drunk. My plan was to get into my car without a seat belt on and crash it into a brick wall and kill myself; I obviously was overlooking the air bag. The last thing that I remember is falling down. I only know what happened the next twelve hours from what other people told me.

I awoke in strange surroundings. It looked like a guest room in a residence. I was dressed in the same clothes that I was wearing when I left the Country Club. I had a splitting headache, and otherwise felt like shit. Unfortunately, I had not forgotten the reason for my malaise, so I felt worse emotionally than I did physically.

I slowly walked out of the room I was in, found a bathroom, and after relieving myself looked in the mirror. I looked as bad as I felt, including having a large bump and scrape on my noggin.

I thought that I recognized the second floor hallway that I was in, but couldn't place it. I heard sounds of meal preparation and people talking on the first floor, so I stumbled down the stairs. I was shocked to see Doreen's parents, Tom and Lydia Bronson, in the kitchen.

"Well, Brent, glad to see that you're among the living," Tom said, peering at me over his reading glasses and putting down his newspaper.

"Hit, Brent, breakfast will be ready shortly," Lydia chirped from near the stove.

"Tom...Lydia...I...I have no idea how I got here," I mumbled.

"Have a seat, Brent," Tom said, getting up and helping me into one of the kitchen chairs, "and I'll tell you the story."

"Thanks, because I have no recollection of anything after I left a bar during what I presume was last night, and was trying to find my car," I mumbled.

Tom proceeded to relate the story, with Lydia occasionally throwing a comment out. Basically Tom and Lydia were going to meet some friends at a restaurant about a block from the bar I came out of. As they walked toward the restaurant they saw a guy fall and hit his head on the sidewalk and went over to help. When they determined that it was me Lydia went to get their friends. They and their friends helped me to their car and drove me to their house, cancelling their dinner plans and getting takeout with their friends instead.

"I'm so, so grateful that you helped me out," I said. "I'm particularly grateful that you brought me here instead of to a drunk tank or a hospital."

As Lydia brought some pancakes and juice to the table she replied "Considering what you were mumbling we thought it best to just bring you here. Get some food in you – you need it."

"What did I say?" I asked, completely perplexed.

"That can wait until after breakfast," Lydia responded while dishing me a stack of hotcakes.

At breakfast the three of us talked about a number of things, but not about the previous night. Of course I inquired about Doreen and they told me that she had been married for three years but was now divorced and had moved back to the area and lived only about ten miles away. She was a successful entrepreneur.

"Is she still as beautiful as she was in college?" I asked wistfully.

"You'll have to judge that for yourself; she'll be here shortly," Tom replied.

"What!" I yelped. "She can't see me like this!"

"She won't mind," Lydia nonchalantly replied. "She's anxious to see you, especially if what you mumbled last night is true."

By then breakfast was finished, and after I helped clear the table the three of us went and sat in their living room.

"What did I say last night?" I sheepishly asked.

"There's no reason to relate everything," Tom said pensively. "Let me just hit the highlights – rather lowlights. Your wife Melissa was cheating on you, there is no way that you'd start a family under those circumstances, you drank hard liquor for the first time in two years to drown your sorrows, and you were planning on killing yourself. Does that about sum it up, Lydia?"

"Those are the lowlights," Lydia responded with a bemused look on her face.

I buried my head in my hands. After a minute or so I raised my head. "I'm so, so sorry to burden you with my problems," I said, on the verge of tears. "I really, really, don't know what I'm going to do, but I likely would have killed myself last night if I had been able to get to my car. I think that you two know that I'm very emotional," I continued, choking up.

"Sensitive – a quality that I've always admired in you, Brent, but maybe too sensitive for your own good," Lydia said, walking over to me and holding my hand.

After we talked in generalities for a few more minutes the front door opened and in walked Doreen.

Except for a streak of blond in her hair, Doreen looked virtually no different than she did the last time that I saw her eight years ago. If anything, she looked slightly better. I was very nervous about what her reaction to me would be; I got the most pleasant surprise of my life.

"Hi, Brent," she said in a voice so cheery that it seemed that me breaking up with her eight years ago never happened. "You look like hell," she giggled, "but I still need a hug." She held out her hands, I took them, she pulled me up off the couch, and she gave me a sincere, tight hug. After a few seconds of apprehension I hugged her back, and then started sobbing. Lydia broke the tension.

"I think that you two have some catching up to do. Tom and I have plans to go to the mall to shop; we'll be back in two hours," Lydia said, squeezing my shoulder.

I seriously doubt that Tom had been planning on going shopping on Sunday morning and early afternoon, but he pretended like that was the most fun thing ever, and off they went.

As soon as they left Doreen cut right to the chase.

"Brent, you know that we've both always been straight with each other. Is there any reason for that to change now?"

After a slight pause staring into Doreen's beautiful hazel eyes I hesitantly said "No...I, uh, really need a friend now; someone that I can be candid with and open up to."

"Good," she said with a grin. "Let me start. My marriage ended because my husband cheated on me. I can't blame him too much, however, because I'm sure that he sensed that there was only one man that I ever loved, or likely would ever love, and it wasn't him. It was you. From what my parents tell me, I may have a chance to get you back, and if I do I intend to take full advantage of it."

I don't think that I would have been more stunned than if I had been hit by the electrodes of a Taser! I'm sure that my mouth was agape and my eyes the size of baseballs as I remained speechless for what seemed like a long time, all the while staring into Doreen's eyes while she returned my stare. Finally she broke the silence.

"Is that direct enough for you?" she asked with a crooked smile.

"Yeah; I'd say that that was definitely direct enough," I cackled. "Seems like I made the wrong choice eight years ago," I continued.

"That's the right attitude; now let's figure this thing out," Doreen continued with a big grin. "Let's sit at the kitchen table and make notes about how things proceed from here."

And so into the kitchen we went, Doreen got a legal pad and pen out of a drawer in the den, and we got down to business.

Apparently I had been a soul-baring moron the previous night when in my drunken stupor because Doreen seemed to know all of the salient details of my situation; I just clarified a few things for her. I did make it clear in our discussions that I wanted to get the ultimate revenge on Melissa, regardless of what else we did, and wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

By the time that Tom and Lydia had gotten back two hours, and two full pots of coffee for Doreen and I, later, Doreen and I had the basics of a plan on how to proceed. In making the plan I had constantly reiterated my need for ultimate revenge and to get out of my marriage; she told me that she'd do anything to help as long as I ended up with her; and the ideas gushed out. We each made a "To Do" list, a list of things to avoid, and a list of possible major pitfalls. We promised to meet for lunch every other day to refine things and see how we stood in completing our assigned tasks.

There were only two people that we really needed to trust; Tom and Lydia. Well maybe Jasper too. Neither of us had any problem with trusting Tom and Lydia, and they were honored to be taken into our confidence. We told them only as much as we needed to. I believed that I could trust Jasper also.

The most immediate problem was to explain to Melissa how and why I had been gone since yesterday early afternoon, now an expanse of more than twenty four hours. Since I looked like hell, including the bump and scrape on my head from passing out on the sidewalk, we were confident that it was doable.

Doreen drove me to where I had left my car; fortunately it was undisturbed. I had left my cellphone in the car. I checked the messages on my cellphone, which included ten from Melissa and one from her father, Jack. The first one, chronologically, was from Jasper.

"Hey Brent," Jasper said. "Just thought that I'd let you know that I saw Melissa. She asked if I had seen you. I told her that you had an emergency come up and looked all around for her, including on the driving range and course, but that you couldn't find her or Jeremy so you took off with instructions for me to tell her that you'd be in touch as soon as your emergency was resolved, and to take a cab home. She had a very distressed look but bought my story completely. Good luck, man, and let me know if there is something that I can do to help."