This story is dedicated two of my readers, ZedO and Harryin VA. They have used time to post comments to some of my stories with constructive criticism and contrary to general belief, I appreciate their input.
I will also send a sincere "thank you" to CJ_Ed for her editing, making the story much more readable than presented by my hand.
*****
Michael
A few months earlier.
"Please, John, accept that management chose me to head the sales team." ...
Background
John and I had been friends since our college years. After college, John and I found jobs in different cities, and we lost touch. It was pure coincidence that a few years later we ended up in the same department in the same firm.
By that time we were both married. John married Adele, a pretty brunette with a fierce temper. Vicky, the girl I married, is a bubbly redhead with a surprisingly mild temper. One always expects the redheads to have the most violent tempers. But not my Vicky; she is a lovely woman whom I cherish highly.
Both Vicky and Adele were career women. Adele was a copy editor in an ad company, while Vicky was a lawyer in a small local firm. They did not become friends—they were just too different. So, we never socialised as couples, and only ever met at company functions.
Vicky liked John well enough. It was understandable. Around men he was an obnoxious bastard. He behaved very differently when towards women. Around them he was polite and charming, and lovely to talk and even share a dance with. His most successful deals were always those he had concluded with women. A true Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde-character.
Vicky did not understand or believe what I told her about his personality. In fact she went out of her way to tease me by being extra flirtatious around John at company functions. Don't get me wrong, she never did anything inappropriate at all—no close dancing, or hiding in dark corners, or disappearing for a while, or anything like that. I knew she was teasing, and never feel that she would cheat on me with him or anybody else for that matter.
John certainly wasn't my very best friend—he simply isn't best friend material. But, until now I presume, John has always considered me his best friend.
***
"No, Michael. I can't. You have been with the company for two years. I've been here for five. Seniority should count for something."
"Management knows that I am better suited for the position. You have no team spirit. The others in the team don't like working with you. You stab them in the back whenever you think you can benefit. In short, they basically hate you. Accept it and do what you do best. Stop criticising the management for not choosing you. You would have been a terrible team leader, and you know it."
If looks could kill, the one John gave me would have done so. Then he turned on his heel and stormed out of my office, slamming the door as he went. Adele's animosity towards me had also become palpable after my promotion. I suspect that John had assured Adele that he would be promoted to sales manager. Like her husband, she was not satisfied with the outcome at all.
*** That year we spent Thanksgiving with Vicky's parents, and Christmas Day with mine. We celebrated New Year's Eve with a bunch of our friends at the Hilton Hotel downtown. We had a great time, and entered the new year in good spirits.
Our company does not host a Christmas function. Instead it ushers in the new year with a party for employees and their spouses on the second Saturday in January. This time around it was a dinner with the usual uplifting and encouraging speeches by the management followed by drinks and dancing. It was the first company party I attended since my promotion. So, I was very disappointed when Vicky called me on the Friday afternoon to tell me that she would not be able to make it.
"Why can't you make it?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, Michael. Something has come up that is more important than this party," she replied. "I'll explain at home."
I called the organiser and told her that I would be coming alone and left for the day.
*** Later that evening, Vicky gave me a hug before sitting me down to explain why she was unable to attend the party.
"My friend Denise had an accident today. She slipped and broke her left ankle and right wrist. In her current condition she'll need help with most things. At least until she gets used to the situation and figures out how to get around. As her bad luck would have it her husband is in Europe at the moment, and will only be home on Sunday. Until then she needs help and company. June will be with her until tomorrow evening, but has to be home by six o'clock to see to her kids. I've promised to take over then, until her husband gets back."
"Of course, I understand. This is more important than the company party," I replied. "She is indeed lucky to have such good friends."
*** On that Saturday Vicky dropped me off at the party before heading to Denise's.
The dinner was a success, and I enjoyed the good food and wine. Mercifully the general manager's speech was short and to the point: wishing us a productive year, informing all employees of the five per cent bonus they would be receiving for the companies good performance in the previous year. Strangely, John and Adele did not attend the party. Apparently, he couldn't make it to the dinner but would join us later for drinks and dancing.
***
Sure enough, Adele and John arrived at around nine o'clock just as the sales team, were getting comfortable with their drinks at a large round table, waiting for the dancing to commence. They joined us at the table. Adele gave me a smug smile as she sat down. I was confused.
"John, you missed a very good dinner," quipped one of the managers, offering John a seat next to him.
"So be it. We had some awesome, unforgettable fun at our house," he replied.
"That sounds interesting. Tell us more?"
"A lady friend called us yesterday and offered to spend a few hours with us today. She is a pretty redhead whom I've been flirting with for some time. This was a very exciting development—we had been trying to find an opportunity to be together for several weeks now."
"Ok," another said, "what did you actually do?"
"Well, we had some awesome sex in our king-sized bed. She really liked my cock."
"She liked licking pussy too," Adele added with a smirk.
"Who is this woman? Do we know her?"
"Michael does," John replied with a big smile and a nod in my direction. He was obviously gloating.
"Are you trying to tell me that you're talking about Vicky?"
"Of course, who else?"
"There is no way that she would spend time with a slime-ball like you. You're bluffing. Vicky is with a friend who has had an accident.."
"Ha ha, my friend, I have proof," Michael said before pulling out his phone and passing it to me.
"You see? That is my cock in my wife's hand."
I glanced at Adele as she raised her right hand. Sure enough, the ring was the same as the one on the hand in the photo.
"Can you see how she is directing my cock into your wife's pussy?"
I looked at the photo. I have seen and licked Vicky's pussy hundreds of times. Oh shit - it was hers for sure. The pussy in the photo was hers. I could feel my eyes misting up. I looked at my colleagues and their spouses. I only saw shock and pity.
I stood up silently, and left the table. I walked out of the room and finally, the hotel. I got into a cab. The taxi driver shook me out of my daze when he got to our address, which I must have given him at some point. I walked up the driveway, entered the flat and locked the door behind me.
*** Vicky
I headed home, as soon as Denise's husband arrived on Sunday. I was looking forward to a relaxing and quiet Sunday with Michael.
The house was empty when I got there. There was no trace of Michael in any of the rooms.
I could tell that he had been home after the party. The bed had been slept in. Maybe he had stepped out. I called his mobile but he hadn't taken it with him—his ringtone rang through the room. He had left it on his pillow. I got a bit angry. Just leaving without saying anything and without his phone was not just like Michael at all. When I found his wedding band next to the phone, I knew something was terribly wrong.
I started searching the bathroom frantically. His best clothes had disappeared form the closet. It became clear that he had left me. I had no idea why.
I don't know how long I spent crying on our bed. Eventually the horror of the situation transformed into pure anger. I went onto autopilot, and did what I was still certain of. I organised. I made the bed and tidied up the flat. I cooked myself some dinner. All the while thinking about what had just happened.
In our small shared home office I discovered that he had taken his passport, certificates, licences and so on. Everything he would require to make a new life. I managed a weak smile when I realised that our wedding licence was still in the folder set aside for most important documentation. Obviously he wouldn't need that one wherever he was going. He had also left his company laptop, and the company credit card on top of it. It was clear that he had not only left me, but his firm as well.
Considering what could have led to this, I concluded that something must have happened at the party the night before. When I dropped him at the party he was fine. We were fine. I was certain that he must have done something terrible at the party, and that he could not face me. That was the only explanation I could think of.
Trying to contact him would be hopeless. It was clear, from the way that he had left, that he would make contact when it suited him. I could wait; at least for a few days. But I would have to call the company on Monday morning to try and find out what may have happened on Saturday night.
Later that evening I realised that he had in fact taken his iPad. I decided to send him an email, which even as I typed it, I doubted he would respond to. Michael was a very thorough and decisive man - if he has decided to disappear that is what he would do.
I read over the email before pressing send:
Dear Michael, Arriving home from my stay at Denise's earlier today, I realised that you have left me, and from the looks of it, your job too.. Whatever your reasons, we need to talk about it. I need some sort of explanation. I do love you, for better or worse just as we'd promised. Love, Vicky.
