Sprung - 13th Alternate Ending

I enjoyed Sprung and its alternate endings. In fact, the challenge by Vandemonium1 is one of the reasons I started sharing a few stories. Like the original author, I like to find methods of discovery and resulting actions which are different from any I have seen before. In my ending, the discovery method is not unique, but to my knowledge, the response is. I believe there are many, many yet to be explored.

Following is excerpts of how the original story was introduced.

I still read people here who say, "All the story lines have been found", "There are no original ways to discover your partner cheating that haven't been used", "there are no original consequences". To those people and the ones reading those comments, I say, CRAP! I am far from an artistic or super-imaginative person, but it only took me a matter of hours to come up with a discovery method I haven't seen and nine distinct story lines. I don't say this to brag, but to beg you not to believe the naysayers. If you believe them, you won't put pen to paper and maybe miss out on having as much fun as I have for the last three years.

* * * * *

So, I give you 'SPRUNG 1-9'...

What SPRUNG is, is a common start to a story, then nine different endings. Some short, some long, some happy, some sad, some ambiguous; but all distinctly different. Quite frankly, I think two of the endings are amongst my best work. They go from gentle to harsh down the sequence. From the continuance of a happy marriage in Sprung 1, to the whole town being warmed by the burning bitches/bastards.

My public service gift to those struggling to start writing is an invitation. Grab any of the SPRUNG stories you like and do what you will with them. Plagiarise the whole start and write your own ending. Steal one of the concepts and write your own words. Anything you like, just put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and have fun. I desire no acknowledgement for this gift, although a private email to tell me how you enjoyed your writing and publishing experience would be nice. To this end, some of the stories are incomplete. Either imagine the ending you want or write one and publish.

* * * * *

I particularly liked the opening of the story, but in my version, this is an on-going affair rather than a first-time fling. I changed the first paragraph and a few words, here and there toward my story line. I also changed the point of view to Dave's, which is shown in the text. I would sincerely like to thank Vandemonium1 for comments he provided. I took all of them into account.

One particularly good comment suggested recognizing the preferences of readers. Like most, I write because I enjoy it. But I found I could take a little more effort describing what it is I enjoy and (hopefully) enable readers to enjoy it, with me.

What follows is Vandamonium1's introduction and my conclusion. There is a little difference in the English, to paraphrase, we are two people separated (I am in SW US, he is some 8,500 miles SW of that) by a common language.

* * * * *

I looked for the last time at my reflection in the mirror. Could I do it one more time? I was sure Dave was still clueless. What started as an adventuresome fling had bloomed into a full romance. We figured we'd be ready to file for divorces in about six months. Until then, it was critical we were not discovered.

I took in my reflection. The person looking back at me would have to walk the gauntlet past her totally clueless husband. Must appear exactly as described on the packet: a dutiful niece going to look after her frail aunt for the weekend, so her other aunt could have a break. There could be no sign of the woman who was using the story as a cover to meet another man for two nights of who only knew what in his remote cottage in the mountains.

For the last time, I looked for any holes in my cover story. Auntie June was indeed sickly and was getting looked after by my Auntie Peg. Both were widowed, Peg's husband having died last year. Aunt June's husband, Nicolas, having been killed in Vietnam in the late sixties and she'd never really gotten over it. She'd chosen to have his body cremated, buried the ashes in the backyard, and built a little shrine. Every visitor to the house was expected to go out and give their regards to Uncle Nick. Auntie Peg was indeed having a break from care this weekend, but June was being taken to Peg's son's house while his mum had a respite.

So, discovery methods to scupper my plans?

My husband, Dave, wasn't on friendly terms with Aunt Peg, so wouldn't speak to her to confirm or deny my story. I doubt he even had a number for her son. Aunt June had no fixed-line phone, so Dave couldn't be suspicious when I didn't answer it. So long as I always answered my cell in the next two days, I was fine.

Could Dave drop in to June's house unannounced? Impossible. A couple of hours after I left, he was going to the airport and flying out for a weekend business trip. Our two children my sister had already picked up to look after until we both returned on Sunday. His trip was a last-minute thing. Soothing a client who thought there was a huge problem with their mansion design when it was already half built. That wasn't unknown and no amount of explaining it over the phone allayed their fears. Dave was using the opportunity to stay on site and design the gardens surrounding the house. It would save him a trip later. If I'd known about the trip earlier, I may not have bothered to make such elaborate plans of my own and invited Michael here. No. Too risky. So, with the double surety of my planning and Dave's trip, I could not envision any scenario where my not being where I was supposed to be, with who I was supposed to be with, was discovered.

The doorbell rang, and I went to the bedroom door until I was sure who it was. It was my husband's PA, Julie, obviously dropping off last minute stuff for Dave's trip. She'd been with Dave for two years now and I knew Dave was sponsoring her through architecture school. He often described her as his perfect counterpoint, seeing all the things he didn't. He even dedicated the award he won last year to her.

Any other wife might have been jealous of a younger, trimmer, better looking, bigger boobed woman that spent almost as much time with their husband as they did, but they didn't know my Dave. He would be more likely to put his cock in a lion's mouth and yelled, "Dinner time, kitty", than betray my trust. I trusted him exactly the way he trusted me.

Could there have been anything in my suitcase to give me away? I'd left it open on the bed all morning specifically to show Dave there was nothing inappropriate in it. All the clothes were consistent with my cover story. Sure, there was another bag locked in the trunk of my car, with my cocktail dress and other clothes in it, but as I had the only two keys for my car, all was good. The silky negligee, fancy stockings, and push-up bra with matching panties and suspender belt, had been purchased on the other side of town, with cash. The packaging and receipts were disposed of before reaching my car, and the offending items put straight in the trunk.

That reminded me. Appearance. Was it consistent with a wife going to look after her aging aunt? Let's see, skirt down to my knees, showing off my calves, conservative blouse. Modest make-up that could be touched up in the car before I got to the cottage. I had considered stopping somewhere to change into something sexier before getting there, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. No, meet Michael at the cabin, an hour in the opposite direction to my aunt's house. Shower and change into sexier clothes, out to the quiet restaurant Mick had told me about, then back to the cottage for dessert. I'd packed a second dress for Saturday night, but doubted it would be necessary.

I'd once done an adult education course in cooking. The first day we'd learnt that the first bite was with the eye. I hadn't planned to wear any jewelry apart from my wedding rings, but looking at myself critically, I needed something else. Opening my jewelry box, I chose my current favourite necklace. Was it consistent with the trip? A little over the top maybe, but it helped my confidence so stayed in place. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and leaned towards the mirror. The necklace complimented my cleavage, far and away my major asset, perfectly. Yes, it was worth the risk.

So, cover story good, nothing suspicious packed, nothing about my appearance to give me away. Was it worth reviewing the precautions Michael was taking with his wife? No. That was much simpler. He was going to their cabin as he did regularly to de-stress. His wife was flying out with their kids Saturday to visit her mum in the next state. All good.

Only one difficult thing remained to do. Getting past Dave to the front door. Somehow me and my conscience had to make the trip, yet another time, without giving anything away.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was time to go. Deep breath, Sarah. This is the hard part and should be over in minutes. Sure, you'll probably feel guilty, again, when you see Dave on Sunday, but that's all right. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked into the lounge. Dave was sitting on the couch, staring at a large framed photo that hung above the fireplace. Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

012Say ENDING #13: BTB Rating 3

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

He was a little distracted, judging by the expression on his face. Probably thinking about a work problem. That helped. He rose as I walked towards him, that allowed me to make eye contact with him as little as possible. The rest was prevented by my hugging him. He returned my hug, then pushed me to arms-length and looked me square in the face, his expression still neutral.

"I'll cancel my trip, if you cancel yours, Sarah. We won't tell your sister and have a whole weekend in bed, just like the old days, huh?"

I pulled him in for another hug.

"It's way too late for that, Darling. Aunt June is relying on me, you know that. Have a good trip, I'll see you Sunday night."

Averted eyes, peck on cheek, about face, walk to door, pick up suitcase, straight out door, shaking slightly from the released tension.

* * * * *

Dave

Sarah was gone about five minutes when the doorbell rang. Odd, I thought, if she forgot something, why doesn't she use her key? I got up and opened the front door. A woman, about my age, I had never seen before, stood there. "May I help you?" I inquired.

"Are you Dave Smith?"

"I am."

"My name is Ann, Ann Compton. May I come in for just a moment?"

I looked at my watch, I had nearly two hours before I had to leave on my trip. I guess I could talk for a bit of that. "Certainly, please come in. May I offer you something to drink?"

"White wine if you have it."

Early for that, but I did offer. I got her the wine and sat in a chair facing her, seated on the couch.

"The only way to say this is to say it. My husband Michael is having an on-going affair with your wife, Sarah." She paused.

For a moment, I was speechless. I had no idea what to say. Finally, "An affair? For how long?"

"I have known for five months, but it has been longer. I just got the PI's report and am going to file for divorce and take him to the cleaners."

"I see. You'll excuse me, I am taken totally by surprise here. I had no idea." After excusing myself, I went to get a drink. Until today, I thought the only issue in our marriage was my desire to go into business for myself, to get away from the firm I found so unsatisfying. Sarah liked the sure salary and our great life-style.

"They are meeting for the weekend at our cottage in the mountains. I'll have more video. I am happy to share everything I have with you."

"Thank you." I stopped and thought, what do I want to say? She could tell I was deep in thought and let me sit there. It was clear from her revelation what my path was — wait. Men do not do well in divorces. If I file, I'll pay. If she files, she can pay. It will go better for me if I am blind-sided. Finally, I said, "You know what, I think I'll pass. May I ask this, is my wife to be named in your divorce action?"

"Why, no, but we could, I guess."

"No, again, thank you. I know you will want to introduce videos with her picture, but if it is alright with you, leave her name out of it. One more question. When will you file?"

"Next week the PI and I are taking everything to my attorney, on Wednesday. She will file, I would guess it will be the following week."

"May I ask another favor of you?"

She seemed wary now. I wasn't acting as she suspected I would. "Sure, I guess."

"Do not mention to your husband that you met with me. Do not tell him you know who she is or who I am. Could you do that, for me, please?"

"Mr. Smith, I will say I don't understand you. I thought you'd want to join me. I've heard there are guys who get off on a woman who cheats on them, maybe you are one of those. But if you want me to forget you and ever being here, sure, I can do that."

I thought, her husband is a dishonest shit, cheating and lying; at least I am only lying. I hated being another man, lying to her, but there was nothing but downside in revealing my actions. Confrontation and anger would yield me a poor return;

not knowing and being surprised by my wife

was my clear route.

Ann Compton finished her wine, stood and said, "Well this was not what I thought it would be. I wish you well." And with that she was off.

* * * * *

I extended my trip through Tuesday. When I returned that evening, Sarah was all over me and we made love several times. It was different, I wanted to let her know what I thought of her, but instead, decided a few carnal pleasures for the road, as it were, would not hurt me. I did my best and did not grimace when I told her I loved her, too. If she could lie through her teeth, why not me, too?

Things were normal that week and the next until Thursday, Sarah came home acting odd. She wanted to know if I'd "heard anything". I asked her if she could be more specific, I'd heard the weather report and had several tidbits from local news. She said, no never mind, "I don't know what I was thinking". It was such a poor attempt to find if I knew about her affair and her lover's being served that I wanted to run her in circles with questions. But, I decided, I'd probably let on I knew something. In the end, she had presented stupidity and I had accepted it.

Our life went on as normal, one day, I came in and Sarah said, "Dave, you weren't at work today. In fact, they said you no longer work there."

"Yes, that's true. I was fired."

"Fired? Why do you still have your company car? Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you think it significant?"

"Well, that's several questions. First, I asked to keep the car, as a kind of severance. They let me keep it. Why didn't I tell you? I didn't want to worry you. We have good savings. We'll be ok, until I find work. I was hoping to find work before you ever knew I was without it. Why did you go by my workplace?"

"Dave, I need you to sit down. We need to talk."

"That sounds ominous. Is something wrong?"

"I am afraid so. I have fallen in love with another man and want to be with him. I have filed for divorce. I had a process server sent to serve you at work, only to find out, you don't work there anymore."

I looked surprised and hurt and just sat there. She probably was thinking I was at a loss.

Actually, I thought back to the Wednesday I returned to work after my trip. My boss, the company president was in a meeting with his boss, the CEO. I made sure there were several witnesses, both men and women, when they came out. I looked at my boss and said, "Well, well honing your cock sucking skills?" My boss really did not like me. He actually smiled.

Within thirty minutes, I'd negotiated my final settlement and was out the door. Permanently. They wanted me to sign a no compete clause. We played with the words a bit, but in the end, I signed for an extra payment of $250,000, payable in one year. The CEO and I had had a good relationship. I asked for a promissory note from him to me, no witnesses, no other documentation. The only people aware were him and me.

Finally, I looked up at my wife, all pitiful-like, and said, "So you are going to serve me, now?"

She got in her brief case and handed me a manilla envelope. "I'm so sorry. Sometimes this happens. We just have to move on."

I didn't respond. I was reading. I got to a paragraph called

Spousal Support

. "Oh, we'll need to revise this part. Since I have no income, I'll need support, but nowhere near what you are asking from me."

"What!"

"Well, I guess I could pay you 50% of my salary, do you prefer gross or net? It's the same number, nothing, zero, zippo, nada."

She sat and glared at me. "You son of a bitch. You knew this was coming. You have wanted out and into your own firm. You are planning on opening your own firm."

"Real nice, Sarah. Kick me with a secret affair, add to it with a divorce, kick a third time calling me names and making accusations. If you want to know the truth, I signed a no compete clause. I gave away those rights."

I made a note to make sure my attorney sent her a copy of the no compete.

Now she was lost. I had to swallow a smile; it would get worse.

Sarah took another approach, "I checked our savings today. A little more than $500,000! That is nowhere near what I expected, where is the rest of our money?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. We live high, spend lots. You wanted this new house, and its huge mortgage. Even when we get architectural work free, we trade up so often, we never build any equity. I've told you that you should pay more attention to our money."

I had told her that on many occasions and was always secretly delighted when she waved me off and told me to handle it.

I decided to emphasize, once more, "What is there is what there is."

I also decided not to mention since I had been planning on quitting and forming my own firm for years, some of my bonus money, and whatever else I could divert was invested in a limited liability corporation I had formed to explore the possibility of my own business. There was not a lot of money there now, it had been spent on research, attorneys, and marketing.

My plan had been to open the business under that corporation. I revised that plan. I would dissolve that corporation when I had the information I needed. Then, after the divorce, she'd have no claim to the new business. Well actually, if she were smart enough to hire a forensic accountant, she would have a claim, but my guess was she'd neither think of it nor have the money to actually hire one, if she did.

Sarah was a funny, off-green shade. Maybe it was something she ate. "Sarah, you don't look so well. I will get these papers to my lawyer by email, tonight. We'll have a response very quickly. You should lie down, before you faint.

Epilogue

The divorce did go through quickly. Sarah was reasonable in visitation with the children, so I withdrew my demand for support and she, hers. We split the five hundred grand, sold the house for what we owed, and went our separate ways.

Now, you might think walking away from a marriage with more than a quarter million dollars looks pretty good, but if you do, you don't know Sarah. Our divorce was over quickly. She and her new love-interest used the money to make a down-payment on a big home, leaving them with an even bigger mortgage, and no savings.

Ann Compton must have hired a team of blood-thirsty demons as her divorce team, they wanted Michael's blood and internal organs, in addition to everything else of intrinsic or financial value. Michael was absolutely raped.