Houston Ch 01 The Problem

Houston 01: The Problem

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen.

At least on paper...

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And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

John Smith pulled into his garage and pressed the button shutting the door down behind him. He saw his wife's Toyota in the garage and was looking forward to seeing her. It had been a long trip, and he missed having her in bed with him.

For a moment, he reflected on his life. While John Smith was the name the government had given him, it wasn't his given name. He was originally born to Bill and Freda Muenster, and was given the name Herman. It seems they had a thing for old sitcoms and they were known to have a warped sense of humor.

They may have thought it was cute, but he didn't. He spent much of his childhood trying to live it down, and he caught hell for it in boot camp. After graduating from high school, he did what many others in the small Texas town where he grew up did, and enlisted in the military. He spent six years in the Marines, two of those in what was affectionately called the "sandbox," and caught the eye of recruiters who thought he would be a good fit for their organization.

So after six years in the Corps, he joined an outfit called "Alpha Sector," a secretive government organization that no one is supposed to know about. Part of what made him a good fit for the job is that he neither looked nor acted like one might think an undercover operative might.

To the untrained eye, he was just an average man, of average height and build, doing an average job. He had a generally good disposition and wasn't one to act like an asshole. He was one of those guys who could easily disappear in a crowd if he chose.

As far as anyone knew, he serviced systems for a multi-national software corporation. And the folks at Alpha Sector -- also known as "The Company" -- made sure that anyone checking into him would simply dismiss him as just another nerdy IT type.

Among those who thought he was just an average fellow was his wife of four years, Houston. Yeah, that was her name. Born to Fred and Alexa McIntosh, he met her while attending a college computer course the Company made him attend in order to bolster his government-supplied identity. Her parents said they named her that because that's where she was conceived. He was just glad they hadn't done the deed in the ghost town of Two Guns, Arizona.

They dated for several months, fell in love, and he asked her to marry him -- after the Company checked her out and gave their approval. After she graduated, she went to work as a legal secretary for a law firm downtown, Omega Legal Services, Inc. She was a warm, loving person, a very good cook and lots of fun in bed. The only concern he had was that she could be a bit ditzy and gullible at times.

She knew when they married that his job required him to travel, and she never seemed to complain. The most fun part of traveling, after all, was the reunion. Of course, she wasn't allowed to know what he really did for a living. As far as she knew, he was sent to clients around the world to deal with software issues.

To a point, that was true. He actually did do software upgrades and perform maintenance on systems. But that was just a cover for his real work, which was collecting information. That information was analyzed, sifted and put together with other information that would eventually become hard intelligence. He didn't know what was done with it afterwards, and he frankly didn't care.

Sometimes -- not very often -- he actually had to use some of his other specialized training. This last trip was one of those times, and as always, it left him in a bit of a sour mood. Hopefully, he thought, a nice quiet evening in bed with his lovely wife would make him fell better.

He walked in the house and instantly smelled the aroma of lasagna -- his favorite dish. Well, one of his favorites, anyway. Houston was an excellent cook, and he loved everything she made for him. He walked into the dining room and saw she had even set the table using the expensive china her parents gave them on their wedding. Yes, he thought, this would be a good evening indeed.

He turned to go upstairs just as he saw her walking down. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he took in the lovely sight before him.

Houston was a lovely woman no matter what she wore, but the black dress she had on left almost nothing to the imagination. It was the shortest dress he had ever seen her put on, and barely covered her tight ass. It was backless, and had two strips of cloth that just covered her B-cup breasts and tied behind her neck. Her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders and the ensemble was topped off with a pair of CFM heels.

"What do you think?" she asked as she twirled around, modeling the dress for him. He could see she wore only a tiny thong underneath the thing and fought the urge to rip it off her right then and there.

"Damn," he said. "You look good enough to eat," he said. She giggled as he scooped her up in his arms.

"Careful," she said. "I don't want you messing up my makeup."

"So, what's the special occasion?" he asked. "I see you pulled out the good china."

"Only the best for our guest," she said.

"Guest?" he asked. "But there's only two places here. Where is our guest going to sit?"

"At the head of the table, of course," she said. He suddenly had a very bad feeling about all this.

"So, where am I supposed to sit?" he asked. "And where's my plate?"

"I'll get to that," she said. "But first, we need to talk." He didn't like the sound of that at all.

"About what?" he asked.

"Maybe we'd better sit down first," she said.

"Perhaps we should," he said, sitting down in his recliner. He could see that she was nervous about something. She sat down on the couch, facing him. "First of all, who is this guest?"

"That would be my boss, Greg Wilson," she said.

"You mean the Lounge Lizard?" he asked. "The guy who thinks he's God's gift to women?"

"You think of him that way," she said. "But he's really very nice. And I'm sure you'll come to like him after you spend time with him."

"I doubt that very much," John said. "But please, go on."

"Well, you remember me telling you about that new position I'm up for?" she asked.

"Yeah, something like an Executive Support Team member?" he asked.

"Yes, that's the one," she said. "Well, Greg and the other partners have been evaluating me and a few other girls for the team and it looks like I may get the job. That will mean a lot more money for us plus it means I'll be traveling a bit to places like New York and Paris. Isn't that exciting?"

"What else does it mean?" he asked. He could see she was getting a bit more nervous.

"It means that I may have to, you know, provide extra services to Greg and the partners," she said. "Maybe even help them win over new contracts."

"And by 'extra services,' are you talking about sex?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," she said. "But it doesn't take anything away from us. In fact, it'll be good for us. And besides, Greg says that it's every man's fantasy to see his wife get screwed by another man."

"What else did Greg tell you?" he asked, fighting the urge to punch a hole in the wall.

"Well, he said that from now on, I'm to call you 'cuck' and not let you have sex with me without his express approval," she said. "And tonight, he said he was going to help me make your fantasy come true."

"Well, Houston," he said. "It seems we have a problem."

"A problem?" she asked. "I don't understand."

"First of all, have I ever given you any indication that I want to see you with another man?" he asked.

"You've never said so outright, but Greg says most men don't realize they're really cuckolds at heart," she said. "According to him, they need to be shown that they're cuckolds by an alpha male."

"I see," he said. "So, let me get this right. You've invited this Greg character to come into my home, eat my food off my table, using our good china, then you intend to let him fuck you in our bed. Have I got that right?"

"Pretty much," she said. "Oh come on, John, it'll be fun. He said you'll really like it after a while."

"He did, did he?" John asked.

"Yes," she said. "He said you may get upset at first, but you'll get used to it."

"Have you already had sex with him?" he asked.

"Oh, no, I haven't," she said. "He was very clear that the first time should be done in front of you."

"I see. Let me get something straight with you, first," he said. "One, if you ever call me 'cuck,' either to my face or behind my back, so help me, I'll kill you where you stand," he told her with a smile on his face. "And believe me when I tell you that no one will ever find your body." Her eyes grew wide as she listened to her husband. He had never shown any inclination to violence, and she was shocked that he would say this to her.

"Second, if this Greg character shows up and disrespects me in my house, I'll turn him inside out," he said, the smile never leaving his face. "Third, if you love me and want to stay married to me, you'll call him up right now and tell him not to come over. Then you'll quit your job. Are we clear?"

"Of course I love you and want to stay married to you," she said. "This is just sex. It doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything," he said. "Now call him."

"Um, I can't," she said.

"And why not?" he asked.

"Because he's already on his way over here," she said. "He'll be here any minute."

"Let me ask you one question," he said.

"What?" she asked, scared.

"Do you really want to stay married to me?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I do," she said.

"Then go upstairs and change right now," he said. "And don't get in my way. You let me handle Greg."

"But he's so much bigger than you," she said. "He works out and knows karate. You're just a software repair guy. He'll hurt you."

"You let me worry about that," he said. "Now, go and change. MOVE!" She jumped back and ran upstairs, crying. He sat wondering what he should do about his errant wife. Divorce was out of the question, since there was too much of a chance his real life could get exposed. The agency had ways of dealing with this, but the idea of turning her into a mindless vegetable didn't appeal to him. He believed her when she said she had never cheated on him, but there was always a chance this could happen again. As he thought, the doorbell rang. He opened the door to find a tall, well-built man standing there.

"You must be Greg," John said.

"Yes, I am," Greg said with a smirk on his face. He walked into the house, brushing his shoulder against John. John hated it when people did that and fought to keep from snapping Greg's neck.

"Well, come on in," John said, closing the door.

"Don't mind if I do," Greg said. He looked John over carefully before speaking. "So, you must be the cuck." Yep, John decided. He had to die.

"No," John said. "I'm Houston's husband."

"Husband, cuck, same thing," Greg sneered. "Get me something to drink."

"Fuck you," John said. "I'm not your goddamn servant."

"What did you say to me, cuck?" Greg said, irritated. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Who does this little pipsqueak think he is anyway, he asked himself.

"I said, FUCK YOU," John said. "Are you stupid AND hard of hearing or something?"

"Why, I oughta pound your ass into the dirt for talking to me like that," Greg said. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah," John said. "You're the one filling my wife's head full of crap."

"Speaking of your wife, where is she?" Greg asked.

"She's getting dressed," John said. "Oh, there she is now," he added as Houston came down the stairs, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Greg looked at her before speaking.

"Why aren't you wearing the dress I bought you?" he asked. "I specifically told you to wear that dress tonight."

"I decided I didn't want to wear it," she said. Greg's face turned red as he looked at John.

"I told her to wear that dress for me tonight," he said. "I demand she go change."

"Tell you what, asshole," John said. "Why don't the three of us discuss this in my office?"

"There's nothing to discuss," Greg said.

"Fine," John said. "Then I'll just kill you right here. Will that work?"

"Is that a threat?" Greg said, getting angrier. John smiled. This was way too easy.

"I don't make threats," John said. Houston tried to intervene, but John held up one hand. "Just five minutes in my office. If you're still standing, then you can do whatever you want to my soon-to-be ex-wife." Houston gasped as he said that. Greg's sneer grew even wider.

"I'll have you know I was the state karate champion two years running," Greg said. "You really wanna try to take this on?"

"Five minutes," John said. "That's all I ask."

"All right, pipsqueak," Greg said. "I'll give you your five minutes, but I promise you, you'll be the one begging for mercy." John motioned to the door that led to his basement "office." As Greg walked to the door, John motioned for Houston to follow him.

"This involves you too, Houston," he said. She looked at him, confused. This was a side of him she had never seen before, and it frightened her. She slowly followed Greg into the basement. John followed them inside, flipping the switch that turned on the lights and activated the security camera.

After they got downstairs, John motioned for Houston to take a seat in a chair along the wall. Greg turned around and sneered at John.

"Alright, big man, what now?" he asked.

"I'm waiting to see what you've got," John said, calmly. "What, you can't come after a man looking you in the eye? Okay, I'll get down on my knees. How's this?" he asked as he dropped to his knees. "Maybe I should put my hands behind my back as well? Okay." He put his hands behind his back and looked up at the bigger man. "Things ought to be just about even, don't you think? Come on, big man. Show the little lady what you've got. What? Are you too chicken to take on a man on his knees with his hands behind his back?"

"All right, you motherfucker," Greg growled. "We coulda done this the easy way, but you gotta act the tough guy. Well, here goes." He telegraphed his move as John suspected he would. Just before Greg's fist got to him, he moved, faster than Greg had ever seen anyone move before. Houston sat, shocked at what she was seeing.

Within seconds, John's arm had been broken in three places, his clavicle was broken, one of his legs were broken, several teeth were laying on the floor and John had him in a head vise, his arm around Greg's neck.

"If anyone asks, you slipped on a bar of soap, you got it?" John asked quietly. Greg nodded his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," John said.

"I... got it," Greg squeaked.

"Alright then," John said. "And remember, I know about 1,000 ways to kill you. Fuck with me again, and you'll find out about some of them. Say goodnight, Gracie," he added, applying enough pressure to put Greg to sleep. John let his body slump to the floor, unconscious, then stood up and pulled out his phone.

"Clean up on aisle two," he said. "And I'll need a verifier. Thanks." He ended the call then looked at Houston, who sat in the chair, shocked and frightened.

"Is he..." she began.

"Dead?" John asked. "Nah, but he'll have one helluva headache when he does wake up."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"What, don't you know your own husband?" he asked.

"I never knew you could do... this," she said. "I thought you were just a programmer."

"What can I say?" John asked. "All programmers can do this," he said calmly. She shook her head.

"No, they can't," she said. "I've seen Greg take down bigger men than him. I've seen him break bricks and boards. You took him down in seconds. He never stood a chance."

"No matter how big and bad you think you are, there's always someone bigger and badder," John said. "I was just motivated and pissed off. He's lucky I didn't kill him."

"So what happens to us?" she asked. John looked at her.

"That depends," he said.

"On what?" she asked.

"On how truthful you are when the verifier gets here," John said.

"Verifier?" she asked. "What's that?"

"That's a tool my company uses to verify someone's statement," John said.

"What happens if I don't pass?" she asked.

"You really don't want to think about that," he said.

"Did you really mean what you said about killing me if I called you... that word?" she asked, a tear running down her cheek. John looked at her and nodded his head.

"Yes," he said. He saw her tremble in fear and decided she was owed an explanation. "You see, my mother cheated on my father for years. He considered a divorce, but learned it would cost him more than he could afford to pay. He'd lose the house, half of everything he worked for, become a part-time father. He was ruined as a man, but at least he would be there for us kids. So he stuck it out. The whole time, he hated her guts and we could all see what it was doing to him.

"Our mother didn't care, and kept rubbing it in his nose, even though he worked his ass off for all of us. She ran him down and called him that every day, and it ate at him horribly. After my youngest brother went to college, he tossed his wedding ring in the toilet, drove to the bar where he hung out, had a couple beers, said goodbye to his friends, then drove off a cliff and into a quarry where he died," he said.

"Oh my God, I didn't know," she said. "I'm so sorry I fell for Greg's line of bullshit. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Ask me that after the verification is done," John said. Just then, the doorbell rang. John ran upstairs and opened the door. Three men wearing white suits came inside. Two of them placed Greg on a gurney and wheeled him to an ambulance outside. The third man opened a briefcase and pulled out a tablet with something attached to the camera.

"Alright, missy," the verifier said. "We're going to take your statement. This device measures galvanic skin response and a few other things. It's more accurate than a standard lie detector machine. Just answer the questions truthfully. First off, state your full married name."

"Houston Smith," she said. "No middle name."

"State your age," the man asked.

"Twenty-six," she said. The verifier looked at John and nodded his head.

"Houston, at any time since we've been engaged, have you ever cheated on me?" John asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"You've never engaged in any sexual act with a man or a woman in that time?" he asked her. Again, she shook her head.

"No, never," she said.

"At any point in that time, have you ever allowed another person to touch you intimately?" he asked.

"No, no one has ever touched me like that," she said.

"Have you ever engaged in oral stimulation with either a man or a woman other than me?" John asked.

"No, I haven't," she said.

"What about hand jobs or masturbation? Have you ever touched another man or a woman in a sexual manner since our engagement?" he asked her.

"No, never," she said.

"Were you planning to engage in sex with Greg in our marital bed tonight?" he asked. Tears fell from her eyes as she spoke.

"Y-yes," she stammered.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because he told me you would want me to, and that you loved me enough to let me do it," she said.