Just Once If You Don't Mind

This is a response to the story by Kalimaxos "Just Once, if You Don't Mind" which may be found at Just Once... If You Don't Mind? - Loving Wives - Literotica.com. I would suggest you read it first as then the story will flow smoothly.

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Wife on a trip leaves husband a hall pass. What does he do?

Well, it just so happens I did mind. She never called, texted or notified me in any way, just the letter she had left with Leslie. And I was supposed to be okay with this, go to the hotel, not meet her flight at the airport, etc. Right, right, just as soon as I eat this egg I'll be okay with your plan. I had no egg but there was an elephant in the room.

It just so happened I had no intention of meeting her anywhere and not to be blunt but I surely had no use for Leslie or any other woman at this point. But I sure had some plans, sure as Hell I did.

First things first and on Monday morning I had a meeting with Brenda Cates, attorney with Cates and McCumber. She listened to my story, made and certified copies of my wife's letter and coached me through canceling both joint credit card accounts, dividing all of our family assets, including splitting the equity of the house which all but assured it would have to be sold. Next the divorce decree which we agreed to have her served with on the Monday after her return to work, served at the hospital in front of her peers.

Let her explain piously her missionary work on the trip. Oh, yes, and let the hospital HR staff explain how and where Doctor Asswipe had gone astray of the clause that had caused the huge lawsuit they were trying to settle, something to do with consorting amongst member of the staff. Or Doctors screwing nurses being frowned on. Something stated as the hospital prohibits any consensual relationship between employees when one individual has authority, influence or responsibility with regard to the other, that should cover a Doctor/nurse scenario. A check of the Morals Clause in her copy of the Hospital Employee Handbook confirmed this.

Finished here but still busy with many things to do, busy, busy. If you have ever been in the military you know that one develops friendships, long lasting, very sincere friendships. I was no exception other than having served as an Apache Attack copter pilot I had some few that owed me their life in no uncertain terms. Two in particular I had flown in to recover from certain death. That day, due to a shortage of pilots, I was flying a Huey with no door gunner or armor, just a crewman firing his M14 to hold back the attackers.

We picked the two up and flew them back to their outfit, then left our contact info so we could be notified when they were stable enough we would return, load them up and fly them back to the airbase for a flight to hospital in Germany, sparing them a long rough ride in a HumVee. And did I mention these two were Marines, not Army? Of course, with my being Army and they being USMC no record of any of this was ever created that crossed inter service lines. Both had made the usual declaration of "If we can ever do anything, please, just call. ANYTHING"

And they each left me a phone number to call. So I called.

First I went and bought a throw away phone, can't be too careful. I drove to a park near my office and sat down on an isolated bench where no one could overhear any of my conversation and went to work. First number didn't was a no-go, the "No such number in service" Garbage. Oh, well, now for number two. On the third ring I heard a deep voice saying "Hello!"

I responded with "Is this Sgt Hamlin, USMC?"

"No, sir, this is Gunnery Sgt Mike Hamlin, USMC Retired. And to whom am I speaking, Sir?' Oh, they do train these guys well.

"You probably don't recall me but I once pulled your sorry ass out of a firefight you weren't doing so well in, as I recall? You already had a couple of holes in you. But on the lighter side it gave me my first Purple Heart for the shard of Plexiglas in my ugly face."

"I remember you very well, Major. It was Maj Weston, correct? What can I do for you, Sir?""

"It was then but now I am like you, Colonel Weston, US Army Ret. And I would like to ask a favor, if you would be willing to do so. And please, think long and hard before you say 'Yes' or 'No.' "You see, I have this situation." I proceeded to tell him the whole story from front to back. Other than a sharp intake of breath and a soft "No!" he listened with no interruptions.

"Unbelievable!" he said when I finished. "And what do you want done, and when? Whatever it is, with a little help from a couple of guys it will be taken care of."

So we set up a meeting and started working on an outline for our plan. We would flesh out the details at our meeting. I tossed the burner phone in a trashcan on the way back to my car. Things were rolling now, happy, happy.

Hamlin didn't live very far from me so we rejected using him for that reason. He did come up with a couple of names he would contact and see if they would come for a visit.

I asked him about the other Marine I had flown out and he told me that Brock had fully recovered, gone mack to active duty and returned to the Sand Box where a thirteen year old sniper had killed him as he passed out Juicy Fruit chewing gum to a bunch of kids. Wars hell and we worked up a plan for a little visit to my soon to be ex-wife and Dr Asshole, her lover. There was a debt here that had to be settled.

First two names Hamlin provided asked only two questions: 1) When, and 2) How do we get there? We had answers to both.

We bought preloaded gift cards and sent one to California and the other to Texas with enough balance to buy round trip tickets to Atlanta and $1500 besides.

James was a giant, standing well over six feet and close to 300 pounds, all muscle. His most distinguishing feature, however, was flaming red hair and a flowing red beard.

Tom was only about five nine or so but very muscular as well. As we briefed them further and learned more about bits about them, we found they were trained in Special Forces and they were good. Hamlin had chosen well.

Names were not spoken again as James became Guy No 1 and Tom was Guy No 2. The only instruction I passed along was "Hospital, not morgue." They understood.

'James' and 'Tom' each had hotel reservations in their own names for one night, then a trip to Cherokee to do a little gambling. They made the trip, bought chips being very conspicuous before the hotel and casino on-site cameras. At precisely 10:00 PM, 'James' left his slot machine, cashed out $680 and went to his room. 'Tom' followed his lead and left the blackjack table, cashing out almost $2000. He had done quite well. Only it wasn't 'James' and 'Tom' it was some imported talent made up to look like the two, enough like them to pass muster on the security tapes. The real 'James', No 1 and 'Tom', No 2 were secreted in the Hospital Drs parking area waiting on the good Dr Asswipe to respond to a head trauma accident as he was the on-call surgeon for the night.

Recalling back details of my service and what I had done for most of my military career, I knew this would work.

The sleek convertible pulled into the "Reserved for Dr on Call" spot and jumped out into the waiting arms of a massive human being dressed all in black. Dr Asshole struggled in his grip until James chopped him on the side of his neck and he went limp. Quickly bound with duct tape he was then thrown none too gently in the trunk of a nearby car and whisked out onto Memorial Drive and headed toward Stone Mountain.

The Mercedes of Dr Asswipe followed behind but not too closely. Both drivers knew where they were going. Revenge lay ahead. No 2 called in from the lead vehicle and spoke one word; "Enroute!"

Crossing over into the next county, the lead car pulled up to a row of warehouses and pushed a remote. One of the roll up doors started to open and the driver quickly pulled through, the door reversing direction as the vehicle pulled through. Opening the trunk, No 1, the giant with flaming red hair and beard, grabbed Dr Asswipe and jerked him out of the trunk.

A sudden beeping at the roll up door prompted guy No. 1 to push the "Up" button and the door rolled up. The little Mercedes coupe of Dr Asswipe rolled inside, being driven No 2. The door closed again and the driver went over to his partner.

"How long did they say for us to wait? I don't like sitting here with this dick any longer than we have to." The big redhead spoke softly when he told him "We'll wait, and no more talk." Pulling a chair from under a nearby desk he sat down and had a good look over the guy they had kidnapped. The good Dr Asswipe was now clearly scared, his eyes showed this and he struggled to make some sound through the duct tape over his mouth.

No 1 pulled the tape away and slapped the face of the Doctor hard, then backhanded him from the other direction. Clearly near unconscious, the man's head rolled back. Holding him upright, the giant said one word,

"Now!" His accomplice then kicked Dr Asshole square in the balls at which point he did pass out only to scream when the first man seized his right hand pointer finger and snapped it back, breaking the bone.

Sobbing now, the Dr heard, "Oh, there's lots more, you will like this." Dropping the Doc to the floor No 2 then stomped the hand with his boot, then ground the heel into the fingers. One more kick to the balls for good measure and they loaded the limp body of Dr Asshole into the roadster and strapped him in upright. This time the roadster pulled out in front and the other car came up in trail.

Close to midnight, the two vehicles turned on to I-285 north bound and rode until coming to a sharp drop off down into a deep ravine. The Benz cut into and hopped the curb, then stopped on the shoulder. The back car stopped and the redhead stepped out, walked to the roadster and pulled the inert but still breathing body out, sliding it under the steering wheel and refastening the seat belt. "Well, Doc, I guess you are ready for your ride. I think this is going to be a bad day."

Saying this, he placed his gloved hand on the rear deck and told his partner, ""Go!!"

No 2 slapped the selector into "D" as the big redhead shoved hard. The roadster leapt forward and down the embankment. The front wheels caught, the little car went airborne, then landed and rolled several times before crashing upside down on the rock lined drain at the bottom of the ravine. The two had already left in the second vehicle so they failed to see the results of their efforts.

An ambulance from the next county was returning empty from a run to the hospital and the EMT riding yelled, "Look, down off the road! Are those taillights?"

Turning on his flashing emergency lights, the driver pulled the unit to the side of the road. Taking a closer look the one that first saw the lights in the ditch grabbed a flashlight and his bag and headed down the slope to the wrecked car while his partner called the accident in to the police.

Blue lights were now on the scene as the two EMT's were strapping the limp body onto a back board. Next to arrive was a fire truck with the help they could provide. The first policeman had slid down to them as they finished strapping the Dr to the back board..

"He is still alive but I don't see how. We'll need a stretcher. And just how do we get him back up out of here?" All in the scheme of things, they lowered a stretcher down, loaded up the Dr and then roped it off.

The officers on the roadway pulled, the two beside the stretcher guided it up and the EMT's provided what help they could. Less than fifteen minutes after they had first stopped, the ambulance was rolling to the next exit, headed for the hospital.

Some minutes later and a few miles further north, No 1 and No 2 pulled off the interstate and into a deserted parking lot at an industrial park, one that was known to not have any cameras monitoring the site. Just like clock work, a nearly new black Ford F150 pulled in beside them and a red headed giant with a bushy mane of hair and full beard got out and grabbed a bag, as his passenger did likewise.

Not a word was spoken as they loaded into the sedan. In only minutes the sedan had reached the I-75 entrance and was headed for south Georgia at 75 MPH.

James and Tom had boarded into the F150 and the black pickup was returned to the same used car lot it had been borrowed from. With yet another driver they were headed for the Atlanta airport just in time to board their flights home.

One fireman said to no one in particular, "I don't see how he lived through the crash and I sure don't understand his injuries. His right hand is crushed, both legs are broken below the knees and he must have landed on the gear shift because his nuts are crushed and so badly swollen they can't tell for sure but may have to be removed. What a mess."

The first investigator on the scene said, "After looking at that Benz I don't see how he could be alive. I've never seen anything like it. Not much left of it after it burned."

"What do they expect us to do, anyhow? How did anyone even find out so soon about the wreck? If that loony woman had not called the Captain we would never have even looked into it as other than a nut running off the road and trying to kill himself."

Yes, the "Loony woman" that had called the Captain was my wife, all bitter and distraught over what had happened to the great Dr Tray Cardosa, MD. She had called and demanded that the accident was surely my fault as I hated Dr Cardosa, or Dr Asswipe to me.

And as sure as rain is wet, here they came calling to the apartment I had moved into the week prior to Marcy's return from South America.

Two officers in cheap suits, one the proverbial 'Good Guy' the other acting like as if he would as soon shoot me as talk with me. First introducing themselves as Officer Smith and Officer Kelly, they asked if they might come in. I said "Sure" and invited them to sit in the living room.

They next asked me if I knew the good Dr Cardosa and I replied 'Oh, do you mean Dr Asshole, home wrecker extra ordinaire? Yes, I certainly know the scumbag, and I wish he were dead."

Both officers backed off then, momentarily stunned by my outburst.

"Care to explain?" asked Officer Good Guy.

I then proceeded to tell him how my wife of all those years had gone off to South America with the ass wipe on a project with Medicines sans Frontieries, or Doctors without Borders.

"They spent six whole weeks doing brain surgery on poor people by day and fucking each other at night. So yes, I do indeed know the Doctor. He is in fact the reason my wife is my soon-to-be ex-wife."

The two officers now targeted me as the prime suspect as I had certainly given sufficient reason to feel the need to do harm to Dr. Asshole. So they proceeded to gang up on me, using a "One, two, one, two" approach.

Officer Good Guy asked a couple of questions in an attempt to determine exactly how much I knew or would admit to knowing about the "Accident" and when he paused, the other asked, point blank, "Why did you do it?"

Not giving him time to reset, I turned to the first officer and told him, "I believe you told me your name was Kelly, correct? And if I am seeing the badge on your belt correctly, you are a sergeant, correct? And may I then assume you to be in command of this detail? If so, please tell your associate if he comes out with one more comment such as his last, we are done with this discussion until I speak to my attorney. Do I make myself clear?"

Officer Smith turned very red and appeared to be on the verge of a stroke but he held it in. Kelly stated they were only doing their job but when I spat out "BULLSHIT" he backed off. Smith still had said nothing more.

Now we got down to the meat of the matter with Kelly asking questions and Smith taking notes. First things first and they wanted to know if I had an alibi for the night of the accident. I said "Don't know if this is good enough for you but I was at the Braves game, I believe the ticket stub is in my jacket pocket," knowing fully well it was, I had made quite sure of that. I then dropped the next bit of info and told him,

"Five of us went to the game together, then four of us came back here and had pizza delivered. We played penny ante poker and drank beer until about two or two thirty Saturday morning. Preacher Caldwell didn't come here with us as he was going home to study and prepare for his Sunday sermon. You want the names of the other three? They are all friends of mine, either from work or old military buds."

Officer Smith closed his notebook and stood up. Kelly gave me the standard "We'll be back in touch and we may wish to take you downtown. Don't leave town."

As time went on, the case seemed to draw less and less interest. As noted, the Mercedes had caught fire when it was rolled over onto its wheels and left very little to examine for evidence. No reason for Dr Asshole to be out and about was ever found, no record of an emergency call for him to report to the hospital. Besides he wrecked twenty odd miles from the hospital.

After it was found he had a wife and children plus having two other women on the side besides Marcy the police soured on trying very hard to find any foul play. Our elaborate plan to create the cover for James and Tom turned out to not be needed but you can't be to careful.

My clarion call came some time later when my attorney Brenda Cates called with a message from Marcy. Following Ms Cates advice I agreed to meet and have a discussion with my wife as a prerequisite to her agreeing to sign the divorce decree. When my wife came into the meeting with her attorney, Ms Cates asked Marcy's attorney to leave just the two of us alone. Marcy agreed and both attorneys left, closing the door behind them. Marcy looked like death warmed over.

"How could you do this?" were her first words. "I know you had something to do with it, I can't prove it but I just know it. Tray was a good man, a great doctor and a skilled surgeon. With his hands ruined he can never operate again, maybe never even walk on his broken legs. His face is ruined..."

At this she began to sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.

"I contacted the police to see where their investigation was going, only to be told there was no active investigation on the matter. I saw the County police had lost interest and called the State Police. They told me they would only intervene if the local police asked for their help and they had not. Someone said they overhead a statement that 'it served him right' for being a cheating asshole. Now whats his wife to do, and how will his children manage? And our children, Rick, what have you told them? They treat me like a leper. Rhonda cries when I try to speak with her and Kyle won't even look at me. Neither one will answer the phone nor return my emails. Why, Rick, why? Why would you do this to Tray, or do this to me? I thought you loved me. I even left someone for you while I was gone, even told you so in the letter. You know you could have had Leslie while I was gone. All I asked for was just once, if you don't mind."

I looked at her for several minutes until she somewhat settled down before I spoke.

"Marcy, I had nothing to do with Dr Asswipe wrecking his car. I do find it strange you still wish to defend the good Dr Asswipe after all this. The children are no little upset with you but as you caused this mess you should try to explain the situation if you are able. And yes, you did ask me for just once, if you don't mind. But you didn't wait for my answer, you see, Marcy, I did and I do mind, and just once was one time too many."