ROUGH ON THE LIVING
The idea for this story came from an '80s song by the Old Dogs, a country supergroup composed of Waylon Jennings, Mel Tillis, Bobby Bare and Jerry Reed. It doesn't follow the story line from the song, but it was the inspiration for it. I hope you enjoy it.
Some suspension of disbelief is required, as I've made up some processes and procedures to move the story along, even if they bear only a tangential relationship to reality. This is the first "Loving Wives" story I've written, although a couple of my previous stories might have fit in that category. It's largely narrative with only limited dialogue, largely because of the story line. I know it's better to show than to tell, but this story seemed to lend itself more to telling.
As always, any resemblance of a person in this story to any individual, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All persons engaging in sexual activity in the story are over the age of eighteen.
I welcome constructive comments and criticisms. Here's the tale. Enjoy.
----
It's not every day a man gets to watch his own funeral from the rear of the church. Especially when, to the knowledge of everyone else there, that man's ashes are the focus of the service. As you might imagine, there's a story that goes with this event.
It's good to live in a place where there are lots of unusual niche businesses, like theatrical makeup and costume rental stores, which is how I was able to attend the funeral as a mourner while everyone else thought I was the guest of honor. A few hundred dollars in cash and a couple of hours with the owner had converted me from a five foot nine inch beanpole with a thick head of hair to a five foot eleven inch obese man with a serious case of male pattern baldness. The pads for my cheeks, the high quality fake balding hair piece, the fat suit, complete with a slightly too small dress shirt and business suit and some makeup to change my skin tone and give me an additional fifteen years, had resulted in a man that even my own mother wouldn't have recognized, had she still been there to see me off. As it was, I was there to see what kind of eulogy my cheating wife of five years, my employer (who, along with his son, had been two of the people fucking my wife and, I'd recently discovered, were actually the fathers of the two children I'd thought were mine and the one that was on the way), my co-workers (many of whom had known all about what was going on between my boss, his son and my wife but had never bothered to tell me) and the handful of friends who had come to the funeral would have to say. I certainly didn't expect honesty, but that was fine. I had a plan and when I was finished, everyone would know what had happened. Not just my co-workers, but the entire company workforce, the heads of our major customers, and our friends and extended families. Since I had no immediate family, being an only child whose parents were deceased, l wasn't worried about embarrassing anyone I still cared about. But when I was done, people would know that it wasn't prudent to cuckold the guy who controls your entire IT system and has complete administrative access to the systems and programs at your corporate headquarters and all six of your manufacturing plants scattered across the country, even if he were dead and reaching out beyond the grave.
The eulogies were fascinating. My boss, Joe Wilcox, the CEO of Wilcox Industries, gave the first one. "Rick was one of the nicest, smartest, kindest and hardest working men I've ever had the privilege to know. Wilcox Industries depended on him heavily. He was the brains behind the systems that make our plants work and had a continuous, hands-on role in keeping those systems up and running. I don't know how we'll replace him. We will miss him. Sally, you have our deepest sympathy at this time of loss. We know how much you and the children will miss him and how hard it will be for you to deal with this loss, especially with this child of his you're carrying right now. But we'll stand by you every step of the way and help you deal with your grief. You're a valuable employee as well and we'll make sure you are taken care of, both for your sake and for Rick's. Bon voyage, Rick and Godspeed. May you rest in peace." Oh, I'll rest in peace alright. Just as soon as I get even.
One of my subordinates, Tommy Johnson, a manager in Wilcox's IT department was next. He was one of the people who knew about my wife's cheating from the beginning. "Rick was my manager and you couldn't ask for a better boss. He was the most knowledgeable IT manager I ever had the privilege to work for. He was extremely generous with his knowledge, always ready to share what he knew and teach the people who worked for him. He was caring and always took time to make sure his people were doing well. He had a real love for each of us, always wanting to make sure our lives outside of work were going fine, and our families were being taken care of. I thought of him as a friend rather than a boss. His passing is a tremendous loss to all of us here, but especially to you, Sally, and your children. We will always have a special place in our hearts for Rick and we're here to help you and the children in any way possible. Please feel free to call on us. And Rick, wherever you are now, I hope that you are looking down to see how many people loved you and will miss you. You were the best." So, I took care of my people, but apparently none of them thought enough of me to take care of me. Thanks guys. I hope you enjoy what's coming down the pike. IT is going to be busy once the hurricane hits.
There were several other eulogies in the same vein before Sally got up to speak. "Thank you all for coming and for the kind words, thoughts and prayers for me and my children in this time of terrible loss. As you know, Rick and I met at Wilcox Industries, fell in love, got married just over five years ago, had two babies and have another one on the way. If it's a boy, I'm going to name him Richard Junior in his honor. Rick was the best husband and father a woman could ever ask for. His love for his family was unlimited. He took great care of us. From the first time I met him, I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, the man I wanted to father my children, care for me in our old age and eventually be with for eternity. It's a tragedy that he was taken away from us much too soon. He'll never get to see his children grow up, hold his grandchildren or grow old with me. I'm going to miss him so much. I'll never get over this." And then breaking down completely (great acting job there Sally), she cried out "Why did you have to leave us so soon?" Well, you cheating slut, you know the answer to that question. You cheated on me from the day we met, had two children by men other than me that you passed off as mine, have a third one on the way, and never seemed to be the least bit concerned about it. That's why I left.
When the eulogies were finished, I slipped out the back. I'd seen what I needed to see and was now ready to put the plan to get even into action. This was going to be fun.
A bit of background would be in order at this point. I went to work for Wilcox straight out of college, where I'd been an IT major. In a super-competitive environment, I'd excelled. Wilcox hired me at age 22. By age 27 I was their Director of Information Technology, one step below a vice president and richly compensated. I had never been very successful with women. I was five feet nine inches tall, weighed less than 140 pounds, had a terrible haircut and equally terrible fashion sense, no real interests but my job and no real experience of any kind as a lover. I did use the internet to study sexual activity, with an emphasis on pleasing a woman sexually, and had the geek's understanding of what had to be done even if I'd never had the opportunity to act on that understanding.
I met Sally at a work social. She was Brad Wilcox's administrative assistant. What I didn't know then and wouldn't find out for years was that she was also both Joe and Brad Wilcox's mistress, or more accurately, their cum dump. And she serviced Joe's wife, Cathy, on a regular basis as well.
Sally was not model beautiful, probably a six on a ten-point scale, but she had a pleasant personality and, more importantly, appeared interested in me. I was flattered. In fact, I was flabbergasted. I was even more flabbergasted when she took me to bed after our third date and I found out she was an absolute wildcat in the bedroom. We made love constantly, moved in together shortly after our fifth date, and continued the torrid sexual activities right up until she told me one night that I'd gotten her pregnant. An honorable guy, I asked her to marry me and we were married two months later. My mother, who was already ill with the cancer that would kill her, was less than enthused with my choice of mate. My father, already deceased, had no comment.
I wouldn't discover for more than five years why Sally was interested in me. She wanted babies. Several babies. Joe and Brad were happy to give her babies but didn't want to pay for them. Cathy came up with the idea to find Sally a husband who was clueless enough to marry her, accept the babies she delivered as his, and worked hard enough and traveled sufficiently so the Wilcox family's little arrangement for sexual pleasure wouldn't suffer any interference. That was where I came in. Sally and the Wilcoxs all recognized that I was sufficiently clueless that I wouldn't realize what was going on unless someone told me. In addition, my job with Wilcox required substantial travel between factory sites, so there'd be plenty of opportunity for recreational activities in my absence. When I went digging back into Sally's and the Wilcoxs' emails after discovering the affair, I understood what they'd done to me and was properly pissed. So pissed that I'd decide to wreak havoc on the entire company and their personal lives as well, but that will be discussed in more detail in a moment. At least Sally did acknowledge in emails to Joe and Brad that I was a more than adequate lover, particularly after she spent some time showing me the little nuances that sent her into orbit. Not sufficiently skilled to cause her to end her affairs, but plenty good enough to keep around. I guess that was a compliment.
When mom died, I inherited my parents' house, a four bedroom, two and a half bath colonial in a good neighborhood. We moved in and shortly thereafter, my second child was born. I was ecstatic. My dreams of a wife and family had come true. I had a great job, a wonderful wife, two delightful children and couldn't have been happier. Fortunately, I never added Sally's name to the deed, an oversight that would turn out to have substantial ramifications in the future for both Sally and me.
Within every apple there is the potential for a worm. I didn't have a clue about the worm in my particular apple. In fact, I knew nothing about it for five years after Sally and I tied the knot. And in truth, I didn't discover the worm. Janie, my administrative assistant, pointed it out for me.
I'd hired Janie when I was promoted to Director of IT at Wilcox. I knew she had a limited shelf life in the role. Her husband, David, was a Ph.D candidate in Economics at the local university and it was more than likely that he'd land a job far enough from Wilcox corporate headquarters to require Janie to quit once he graduated. In fact, that's exactly what happened. Janie came to me one afternoon, a serious expression on her face.
"Rick, we need to talk." I hate hearing those words from any woman.
