PAYBACK'S A BITCH
By Hotprof1973
As with all my stories, this is not supposed to be a moral lesson, but just what I hope is an interesting story. That being said, I did consult with a clinic psychologist for the mental health issues involved in the plot to make the symptoms plausible as a potential consequence to what happens in this story (again, not a common but a potential). Mental illness is serious and I believe in treatment, support, and understanding for those suffering -- even though my fictional characters don't always feel that way. I'd like to also give a big thanks to rnebular for taking the time to edit and offer suggestions to this story; having another pair of eyes made a big difference.
HP
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Jason Shaw was initially concerned when the call came one o'clock in the morning. Could something have happened to his wife of eleven years, Morgan, who was having a girls' night out with a few friends and staying together at a hotel? Or his parents? Or Morgan's parents?
His concern turned to irritation when he saw it was Cliff Dunn calling. Cliff was formerly an associate manager at the insurance firm that Jason was the executive manager - the two never really got along. Cliff, about ten years older than Jason's thirty-three years, was a pompous jerk and a creep towards the female employees. When the company switched to a zero-tolerance policy on harassment, Jason fired Cliff after a complaint of him groping a summer student's ass. The student withdrew her complaint, but Jason suspected it was due to pressure from Cliff and stood his ground. That was held up when Cliff took the company to court for wrongful dismissal.
Cliff was a big, ugly, overweight bully and Jason was glad to be rid of him. However, Cliff did like to drink and two years since being fired, had called drunk about five times threatening or harassing Jason. Morgan wanted a restraining order, but Jason knew the guy was all talk, and if it came down to a fistfight, no way he'd lose to Cliff.
Jason knew he probably shouldn't, but he answered the phone. "Dunn, what the fuck do you want at this hour?"
"Shaw-baby, how's things?" Cliff said in a slurred voice. As Jason suspected, drunk. There was another female voice in the background, which he could barely make out -- probably a television.
"Jesus, Dunn. You fucked up. Just drop it and move on. Harassing me doesn't do anything."
"Shit, man. Not harassing you. This is a courtesy call. Thought you'd like to know I'm fucking your wife."
Jason laughed. Besides knowing his beautiful thirty-year-old wife would never cheat on him, she's never in her dreams look twice at a guy like Cliff -- even if he wasn't such a dickhead. "You're saying you had sex with Morgan? You must be super drunk."
"I didn't say had fucked, I said am fucking... as in right now as we speak. Here..."
Jason heard the phone move to the distinct sound of flesh slapping and a woman moaning, which did sound like Morgan. "God, yes, fuck me, I love it...love this cock in my pussy. Don't stop... feels so good, so good..."
"Hey, it's Jason... say hi," said Cliff's voice a bit further away.
"Oh, hi honey," said Morgan's voice, but she sounded completely wasted, "Cliff's dick feels so good... but, wish you were here, too. I'd kiss you... God, my pussy feels so good with a cock in it...fuck... yes...yes..."
"So, payback's a bitch, boss," said Cliff speaking into the phone again, "Don't worry, when I'm done in an hour or so, I'll pay for the cab back to your place. Keeping the underwear though...maybe the top as well.
As soon as Cliff hung up, Jason called right back. Of course, he didn't pick up. He called Morgan's cell, and then texted her. Nothing.
Going through a whirlwind of emotions, he went through the contacts on his phone and called Kyla, one of the women Morgan was out with, that he also was really good friends with her husband, Chad.
The phone rang about eight times, until a groggy voice picked up, "Jason? What the fuck?"
"Kyla, where's Morgan? This is important."
Kyla half-laughed, "What do you mean? You lost her already, after picking her up?"
"What do you mean picking her up? When? Where?"
"Jason, we came upstairs about eleven for bed," Kyla said a little more alert in a concerned tone, "Morgan was really drunk and getting flirty, so you were called to come pick her up and take her home. We were worried she'd do... Oh my god..."
"Kyla, nobody called me. Who said I was called? She's with someone right now -- a guy I fired... Kyla?"
"Shelley was the sober driver. She said that she called you and, place was crazy busy, so when she said Morgan was taken care of, I assumed... She's not here... Shelley, I mean... What the fuck... How do you know Morgan's with someone? Call the police."
"Kyla..." Jason steadied his nerves to get his words out calmly, "He called me while they were... together... Morgan knew I was on the phone acted like it was no big deal, and she was... enjoying herself."
"No way... I hope not the fat slob who was hitting on her on the dance floor. She was really out of it, but she'd never... Oh god, Jason. Still call the police, what if he drugged her?" Kyla sounded like she was crying.
Jason hung up, got dressed with the intent of driving to Cliff's apartment, but realized there was no guarantee that was where they were. What was he supposed to do with their four-year-old son? Wake him up to drag him across the city to find where mom was getting screwed? Instead, he poured himself a whiskey to settle his nerves and waited downstairs, looking out the front window.
It was only ninety minutes, but felt like forever until a car pulled up in the driveway. The Uber driver, an older Latino man jumped out and had his hands out defensively, "Look sir, I didn't touch her. She was like that when the guy helped her in the backseat. He said, 'take her to her husband -- he'll pay.' I asked if she was all right and wanted to go to the hospital instead, and she shook her head. Look, I didn't stare or anything..."
Slumped in the backseat was Morgan wearing a white hotel robe that was open. In the dim light, it was clear she was naked underneath and a mess.
"Look, I need to wake my son. Can you wait and I'll take her into my truck? We're going to the hospital. Can I also please get your contact information -- the police might want to talk to you?"
"Yes, of course, sir," said the man pulling out a piece of paper, "Here's my card. Please, don't worry, no charge. I have a family too."
Sitting in the examination room, waiting for the police and rape kit was torture. Morgan was still wearing the open robe, so photographs and swabs could be done. She had semen in her hair, on her face, and all over. The worse was written in marker on various places on her body was "Cliff came here."
Morgan didn't say anything, just cried. Little Tommy knew his mom was upset and was crying too. She wouldn't look Jason in the face.
