Shoc and Awe

As always, thanks to oldnakeddad for his editing and continued encouragement.

TSG

++++++++++++

Shock and Awe

Wikipedia defines shock and awe as a tactic based on the use of overwhelming power and spectacular displays of force to paralyze the enemy’s perception of the battlefield and destroy their will to fight.

++++++++++++

When my phone buzzed Thursday afternoon at ten minutes after four, I knew what the text would say, but looked anyway. I confirmed it was from Emerson Burke (my PI).

[Emerson Burke] She’s been served.

My wife was Martha Harrington. In addition to being a wife, mother, sister, daughter, and friend, she was also a senior partner at Willington and Compton, a prestigious Hartford area law firm.

As a senior partner, one of Martha’s responsibilities was to manage the caseload of seven junior partners. She held two mandatory meetings per week for the junior partners—Monday mornings at ten o’clock and Thursday afternoons at four o’clock. Each meeting started exactly on time. Anyone arriving late felt Martha’s wrath for the entire meeting.

The sheriff who delivered the divorce papers to Martha had interrupted the Thursday meeting at two minutes after four and did as instructed.

“Mrs. Harrington, your husband is seeking a divorce! You’ve been officially served!”

After twenty-three years of marriage, I knew my wife well. She’d be absolutely humiliated after being served in front of her subordinates. Despite the anger that’d be spreading through her core, she wouldn’t rush home. Instead, she’d lock herself in her office and review, as only a skilled attorney can, each word of the divorce petition.

I suspected the first reading of the legal papers was more than a little confusing. I listed the classic “irreconcilable differences” as the reason for the divorce. Martha would be thankful that the reason listed wasn’t adultery, but would suspect I knew something about her long-term affair with Michael Kinsley—a married, twenty-nine year old associate with her firm.

She was also bound to be confused about the division of assets. We’d be splitting the proceeds on the sale of our seventy-three hundred square foot home and our beach-front summer home on the Connecticut shore. Martha would keep her retirement and I’d keep mine. Banking and checking accounts would be split after our debts were paid. We each made a great deal of money, so there was no need for alimony.

She’d be bewildered when she got to the end of the legal papers and my very successful, third generation engineering firm wasn’t listed as an asset.

Martha knew my divorce attorney by reputation and had recommended her to a few friends in need of those types of services. She’d commented many times over the years that my attorney was a shark. She’d be stunned that someone who was so well respected in legal circles, would be so careless to leave out any mention of the business. I knew she’d suspect a rat, but she’d be stumped as to what the rat was.

After a second detailed reading of the petition to confirm that her fuck buddy (Michael Kinsley) wasn’t mentioned, Martha would call an emergency meeting of her most trusted partners and associates. They’d all review the papers and, together, come up with an initial game plan to deal with her cuckold husband...me!

++++++

My name is Chris Harrington. I met Martha at the University of Connecticut. She was a second year law school student and I was finishing my PhD in Mechanical Engineering. We started dating one week after meeting and quickly became exclusive. We were walking to the car after a delicious dinner on our third date.

“Chris, let’s go to your apartment and get naked!”

We fucked and sucked for the rest of the weekend. I couldn’t get enough of her tight, bald, dripping pussy and she seemed to appreciate my thick, hard cock stretching her as we made love.

We had sex daily. Sometimes, it was a quickie with our pants at our ankles, and Martha bent over the arm of the sofa. Other times, we spent hours as we explored every crevice of each other’s bodies.

Our sex life was fantastic and included risky sex in bathrooms at restaurants or at parties we attended together. We explored restraints and light BDSM. Nothing was off limits except for Martha’s world class ass. I could lick her ass and finger it, but I wasn’t allowed to fuck it.

Some of her biggest orgasms occurred as I banged her from behind while finger-fucking the tight hole of her backdoor. Since I’d had plenty of anal sex with many partners over the years, it wasn’t a deal breaker for me. I fell in love with Martha...she was the “total package!”

We wholeheartedly agreed that we’d never include others in our sex lives and would remain exclusive. We officially confirmed our pledge to each other when we vowed to “love, honor, cherish and remain faithful” to each other at our wedding, which took place two weeks after we’d both received our advanced degrees.

Our wedding was a fairly large affair. It was held in Martha’s home town of Portland, Maine. The reception was under tents on a warm, clear, summer night at a wedding venue along the rocky Maine coast. We honeymooned in Aruba, but returned “without” any tan lines.

Martha had started the interview process with several Hartford area law firms, prior to graduation. Two weeks after our return, she was offered a job at Willington and Compton.

We spent the next two decades falling deeper in love, raising two wonderful children, and juggling the responsibilities of career and family. I took over the reins of our family business and bought my dad’s shares when he retired twelve years ago. Martha became a junior partner at her law firm seven years into her career and a senior partner at year sixteen.

Life was great...until I found a turd in the toilet bowl!

+++

Just over three years ago, I received an anonymous letter in the office. The envelope was addressed to me and the words “personal and confidential” were scrawled across the bottom.

Inside of the envelope was a folded piece of notebook paper with the words, ‘Your wife is fucking Michael Kinsley.’ There was a photo of Martha and Michael in the open doorway of, what looked like, a fleabag motel.

I hired a highly recommended private investigator and, within two months, I had a grotesque amount of evidence of Martha’s infidelity.

After another month of thinking, planning, and pretending to be a loving friend and devoted husband to Martha, I put my team together. The team included my PI, a divorce attorney, my business attorney, and my business / personal accountant.

I outlined what I wanted and told the group it could easily take a few years until I had everything set up. Their job was to confirm, at every step, my actions were legal and couldn’t be used against me in our divorce.

+++

The second text from my PI came through at ten minutes before six that same afternoon.

[Emerson Burke] Michael Kinsley has been served.

My PI had met with Rachel Kinsley two weeks earlier. He’d shared, what had become a three year investigation and a massive amount of proof of an affair between my wife and her husband. The PI recommended my divorce attorney, who would gladly take her case.

I imagined that any plans the group at Willington and Compton had come up with to combat my divorce petition were thrown out because Michael’s wife had listed “adultery” as the reason for her divorce. Her divorce petition included the PI report, photos, and videos. It was a very complete package.

The garage door rumbled at ten minutes after eight that night. It’d been four hours since Martha was served, and I silently wondered if my three years of planning would trump her war council. I was sitting at the head of our ten person dining room table. A second chair was placed at the opposite end and all eight of the other chairs were in the cellar.

I’d poured Martha a glass of her favorite red wine and put it on the table in front of her seat. As I heard the door from the garage to the kitchen open and Martha call out, I took my first sip of slightly chilled bourbon.

The clackety-clack of her heels on the tiled kitchen floor indicated she first looked into the family room, then my office, and finally the living room before I saw her in the archway to the dining room. Martha looked at me, surveyed the set up, and then moved to the chair at the far end of the table. After sitting, she reached for the glass, toasted me with thanks for the wine, and took a long pull.

It took a few beats before she spoke.

“I don’t want a divorce.”

“I know, and I don’t want a slut for a wife.”

“Chris! Please! Let’s talk like adults. Yes, I’ve had an affair, but I’m not a slut!”

I countered.

“I’ll bet you’ve told me fifty times over the years that only a slut would allow a man to fuck her ass. Those are your words, Martha.”

I didn’t have to say I had a great deal of evidence that Martha had been fucked up her well-used asshole, at least, once a month for the last few years while never giving me the pleasure of doing so.

I could tell Martha wanted to lash out. Her face was red, and she was breathing through her mouth. I watched as she purposely calmed herself.

“Why did you have to ruin Michael’s family? He has two wonderful children who’ll now grow up without a father at home.”

I actually had to choke back a laugh, shook my head, and calmly replied.

“Have you seen Rachel Kinsley? She’s a knockout! Her kids will have a new father at home soon enough, and I’ll guess he won’t be a cheating asshole like your fuck toy!”

I paused for a short time then continued.

“Why would I give a crap about that piece-of-shit’s family? He didn’t care about my family...other than your sloppy, old cunt, mouth, and asshole.”

Martha clenched her jaw and hissed.

“I’ve politely asked you to speak to me like an adult. Your vulgar language isn’t helping!”

I broke a smile, which I knew unnerved her.

“Martha, I’m not trying to ‘help’ the situation. If you don’t like my language, you can get up and leave. I promise, on all that’s holy, I won’t stop you from leaving.”

As I knew would happen, Martha didn’t budge.

“How long have you known?”

Rather than answer her questions, I looked through the props that I’d placed in front of me prior to Martha’s arrival. I picked up a copy of the anonymous material that’d been delivered to my office and pushed it across the table.

Martha took out the short letter and the photo. After examining them, she looked at the face of the envelope and read the post mark.

“Three years? You’ve known for three years, but you haven’t done anything?”

I chuckled.

“Believe me...I’ve done a lot, Martha! You had a four hour meeting at work today to prepare for this talk. I’ve had three years to prepare.”

When I finished that sentence, I saw a shadow of deep concern cross Martha’s face, but I didn’t want to “go there”, yet.

“For instance, we haven’t had sex since I found out. Other than a peck on the cheek, we hardly ever have intimate contact. It’s been three years since you and I have had a loving hug and you haven’t even noticed.”

“I thought...I thought you’d lost interest in sex!”

That comment got a belly laugh.

“I only lost interest in sex with you.”

Martha thought for a couple of seconds.

“Have you really gone three years without sex?”

I smiled from ear to ear.

“I’ve gone three years without sex...with you! I’ve had plenty of sex and, if the video’s I’ve seen are any indication, I’ve enjoyed anal sex with my many partners far more than you have! And best of all, I haven’t needed to lube any of their dried up old pussies with KY!”

Martha was stunned as she sat back in her chair.

I continued.

“The difference is, I have video proof of much of your slutting around. You don’t have the same proof against me.”

“Chris, I love you and I always have. My time with Michael meant nothing. It was simple stress relief, especially after you stopped having sex with me.”

“Don’t go there, Martha. Your ongoing, weekly, three-year affair is your fault. Don’t you dare try to blame me.”

Martha took a full minute to calm down and then continued.

“Regardless, I love you and I know you love me!”

“You’re wrong, Martha. For three years, you’ve constantly lied to me. You’ve smashed our wedding vows and cheated on me. You’ve degraded and humiliated me in the worst ways possible. It took awhile for the love to fade, but I don’t love you. In fact, I don’t even like you anymore.”

The tears Martha had kept in check, spilled from her eyes as she jumped to her feet and ran from the room. I didn’t bother following because I knew she’d be back. I suspected she’d return in “attack mode”, and I wasn’t wrong.

Martha had changed into jeans and a blouse before she came back. She sat and refilled her glass from the bottle of wine I’d left at her end of the table.

“Chris, I think you really need to rethink things. I’ve got a great team at the office and, with the help of an outside divorce attorney, you’ll lose a great deal. I know Sharon Brown (Sharon was my attorney) is a good lawyer, but I’ve already found some glaring mistakes in the petition she prepared! If we can’t come to some kind of decision on how you and I can move forward, I’ll unleash my team on you!”

My smiles and laughs were taking a toll on Martha. Once again, I smiled broadly.

“That’s the difference between your team and my team. Your team will be unleashed in the morning. My team has been slowly and methodically implementing my plan for three years. Your team starts the war tomorrow, but my team’s work is done.”

I let that sink in before I continued.

“I’ll take you at your word that you love me. I’m not sure how that’s possible, due to the three years of deceit, but I’ll accept ‘you love me.’ I can almost guarantee, by the time our divorce is granted, you’re going to hate my guts. The funny thing is, everything you’ll hate me for has already happened. You just don’t know about it, yet!”

Martha hollered.

“You’ll never be able to turn our kids against me!”

“I’d never try to turn the kids against you. In fact, I haven’t talked to the kids. I plan to call them over the weekend, along with both sets of parents and our siblings. I’m going to tell them that I’ve filed for divorce because of your long-term affair.

I’ll tell the kids and my family that I expect them to treat you with respect and hopefully they’ll continue their relationship with you, but it’s completely up to them. If anyone doesn’t believe the depth of your betrayal, I’ll offer to send them the PI report. I suspect you don’t want them to see it, so you might want to simply confirm your affair.”

Martha hated losing and she was starting to understand she was way behind and losing more ground with each verbal volley. Instead of backing down though, she exploded.

“I’m going to take your fucking company away from you!”

The first half of my destruction of Martha had just been launched. She expected a threat against my firm would be her “ace in the hole”, but instead, I sent her attack back at her.

“My company? What company is that?”

She looked at me as if I had two heads and sneered.

“Precision Engineering! I’m going to take it over!”

My grin lasted a while. In fact, she shouted before I answered.

“What?...What?”

I spoke with the most condescending voice I could muster.

“Sweetheart, don’t you remember? We sold PE to the Swedes two years ago!”

“That’s illegal. That’s fucking illegal and I’ll have your ass! The company is a family asset and I didn’t agree to the sale.”

“I didn’t say you agreed to the sale. However, you did give me a very broad Power of Attorney for all things to do with the company. In fact, your firm wrote the document. I used the POA to complete the sale and invest the money in overseas accounts. As you do each year, you personally signed our family tax documents, which clearly listed the sale and movement of money. Good luck finding the money after two years.”

Martha was shell-shocked. As she sat there, her mouth moved like a goldfish blowing bubbles.

I got up, left the room, and walked upstairs to our guest room. After locking the door, I stripped to my boxers, sat on the edge of the bed, and finally cried.

+++

My alarm went off at three o’clock the next morning. I climbed out of bed, showered, and left for the airport to fly to Florida. In preparation for my single life, I’d purchased a condo on Clearwater Beach, across the bay from Tampa.

+++

I’d shocked Martha on that fateful night. I expected it’d take Martha and her legal team a few weeks of combing through legal documents and financial statements before they understood that close to thirty-four million dollars from the sale of PE had never come under the jurisdiction of a U.S. Bank and, therefore, wouldn’t be part of the divorce settlement. Yes! That was truly a shock.

If a life-time of family tradition was any indication, the “awe” half of my plan would happen in five weeks, on the Friday after Thanksgiving (Black Friday!).

++++++

While growing up, Martha was extremely close to her maternal grandmother (Edith). Edith would plan a weekly outing for only the two of them. As the decades passed, Martha took over the planning. During recent years, Martha drove to Portland, Maine once a month (at least) to visit with her and take her from her assisted living facility. They’d go to lunch and, if Edith was well, the mall.

A family tradition, started by Edith and continued by Martha for the last fifteen years, was to display a nearly one hundred seventy-five year old family Nativity scene at Christmas.

Each year, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Martha would go to our local bank and take the twenty-four figurines, which made up the Nativity scene, from a very large safety deposit box. Each figurine was encased in a velvet box.

The kids and I would go out and pick two twelve foot Christmas trees. It’d take our family an entire day to decorate our home. The highlight of our decorating was the Nativity scene centered on a straw-covered table that was “bookended” by the two trees. Three rows of poinsettia flowers were placed in front of the table to protect the incredibly valuable figurines from the roving hands of our guests.

With all of the decorations in place, Martha would stand in front of her beloved Nativity scene and, without fail, tears would run down her cheek. In fact, over the course of the holiday season, Martha would cry on a daily basis every time she looked at the scene. She admitted it was her “happy place” and it reminded her of all of the joys in her life. The scene overwhelmed her with past and present memories.

We left the decorations in place until the day before we went back to work after the holiday season. On that day, we’d reverse the process and the family would put all of the decorations away.

Martha would tenderly box each figurine and place them on the kitchen counter. The following day, she’d stop at the bank on the way to work and put the boxes back into the safety deposit box for safekeeping until they were needed the following year.

++++++

Most of my plan to divorce Martha didn’t take three years to complete. All but one element was completed during the first year.

Over the last three years, I’d planned a business trip for the start of the New Year. My flight wouldn’t leave until around noon, so instead of going into the office, I started my day in my home office.

For the first two years, Martha and I had breakfast together on that first day of work. I’d help her carry the boxed figurines to her car, she’d wish me well and give me a kiss on the cheek, and leave for the bank before going into work. Last year, at long last, the plan changed slightly to what I’d been waiting for.