his is a departure for me. No sex, but a love story. I hope you enjoy it. The Bear.
This story is weird. Not so much as what happened, as the way it came about. Please enjoy. I would like to thank saddletramp1956 for the inspirational for this; Fallout 6 is similar, but 180 deg. reversed. Thanks, boss.
My name is Shawn Reilley. I am a mechanic. A damn good one, and I like my job. No, scratch that, I love my job. I am number two on the floor for Olefsen Motors, a top Mercedes Benz dealership. I am 28 years old, 6'2", 202 lbs. The number one man is Otto Kreuzmer. He is 78 years old. I think he worked on Tiger tanks in World War II.
I have been married for almost 5 years. Her name is Stephaine, nee Downs, 26 years old. 5'6" tall, long blonde hair, 34-B breasts, nicely toned legs, and a face that is pure heaven. We met in community college, where I was studying electrical engineering. She was going for her Mrs. Degree. She thought I was on the fast track for big money. I thought she loved me.
I spent 4 years in the Corps, before going to college. I was trained as a diesel and heavy equipment mechanic. I loved it. I was happy. I met Stephaine (don't call me Steph!!). I was happy. The sex was great. I was happy. We got married. I thought we were both happy. Turned out she wanted more, and she was used her secretarial skills, and her good looks to get it. Sound familiar?
She was hired as a secretary, and got several promotions until she was the personal secretary and executive assistant to the owner, Mr. Richard Olefsen. I was very proud of her, and of her accomplishments; after all, she was my wife. I probably would not have been so proud if I had all the facts. Yeah, she was sleeping, screwing, sucking, blowing, swallowing, and poop-shoot taking it in the ass on her way to success.
It all came about on a Thursday; we only had one car, and used to drive to work together. She made very good money, a little less than me, and we were saving to buy a house. She were also practicing safe sex(read condoms) because she could not take the pill. Anyway, I asked if she wanted to have lunch with me.
"Can't" she replied "We have a dealers association's luncheon at the Hilton. I'm sure I will be ready to go home at normal time, though, and we can snuggle tonight." Let's see, snuggling vs. Jimmy Johns. No contest. "It's a date, toots."
Now, a couple of months ago, while we engaged in swapping bodily fluids, 1 of Trojan's finest popped a small leak; we were both slightly intoxicated, so we did not think much of it. After 2 months, I was totally oblivious to the fact. Stephanie was not. Seems like I'm more virile than I realized. She is now heavy with child.
Now, I didn't know. I was happy. Remember? She did, however. She told her paramour, Mr. Richard Olefson, and he had a brain storm. It seems he was sterile, thanks to mumps, and scarlet fever as a child. He neglected to inform his bride of 10 years. He was 42, she was 34. She wanted kids, and he wanted to screw around.
So he fabricated medical records showing him to be a real stud. Her doctor said that there was nothing wrong with her, so just keep trying. It worked on her subconscious, and she was convinced it was her fault. She was a decent person, and her husband was a caring, supportive man (yeah, right) and just stood by her. And continued to fuck around. She was depressed.
He told Stephanie that since she had a bun in the oven, she was 11 years younger that him, was very attractive, (and sexually talented), and would be a very nice upgrade for him, in the spouse department, he proposed she divorce me, marry him, and he would file for divorce from his wife, marry her, father her child, and they would have a great life: money, clothes, jewelry, cars, big houses, boats, trips, everything she lusted for. She readily agreed. In fact, the aforementioned lunch meeting started at 11:00 a.m., and was over by 12:15p.m. They spent the next 4 hours discussing divorce details, signing forms, and fucking. They were on their way back to work, when they where involved in a horrendous accident. Fortunately, they were in a top of the line Mercedes S-class Maybach automobile.
Unfortunately, they were engaged in fellatio without the benefit of seat belts. The car was struck broadside by an 18 wheeler, flipped about 10 times, wound up inverted in a concrete drainage ditch. Mr. Olefsen was ejected, and died instantly. (YAY!! Oh, sorry.) The passenger was contained inside the vehicle, and slammed around violently. She was transported to the hospital in critical condition. I never knew any of this. All I knew was my wife loved me... Yeah, right.
Soooo... at 5:30 p.m., as I was cleaning up, totally unaware of the impending destruction of my life. The p.a. system summoned me to my boss's office. I reported to the shop foreman's office and was confronted by Mr. Ernie Marchetti (my boss), Lanie from H.R., my good friend Salvatore, and a state trooper. Uh, Oh.
"Yes sir, Ernie, what's up?"
"Sit down, Shawn. I have to tell you something." He hesitated. "Shawn, there has been an accident. Stephaine is in Parklane Memorial Hospital in critical condition. The trooper will take you over, Lanie will follow, and Sal will bring your pick-up over, and stay with you. If you need anything, let Lanie, me, or Sal know. You're off, till further notice. Now go be with your wife, son."
Did you know it was possible to sag and crumble in the sitting position, in a chair?? I didn't, but I do now. I was totally incoherent. I lapsed into incoherency: then Sal, and Ernie led me to the cruiser in the parking lot. The entire shop was silent as I was led outside.
I don't remember the ride to the hospital (I was informed it was made at Warp 6). We pulled up, and Sal and Lanie were soon with me. The trooper led me into the emergency wing, and I was gathered up into the care of three nurses. I was led to the waiting room, and met by Dr. Carson, the chief emergency room surgeon. He sat me down, and started to talk.
"Shawn, your wife is in extremely critical condition. She is in a coma; she lost her right leg, and her right arm; she has extreme cranial damage, 5 broken ribs, a broken nose; she lost her right eye, she's on oxygen, she has severe blood loss. She is in very bad shape. BUT the baby appears to be fine. A little jostled, but otherwise in very good health."... WHAT THE FUCK DID HE SAY???
Celeste Olefsen
Celeste Olefsen was the exact opposite of Stephaine. 5'8'', killer long legs, 38-C breasts, tight waist, narrow hips, an ass like you wouldn't believe, long silky black hair, and a cute face. Not stunning beautiful, but very cute. She wore black librarian glasses, and was very reserved looking. She had a Masters in Business Administration from Wharton College. She was now a widow, with a successful auto dealership to run.
It took her about 2 weeks to get her act together, and by that time, she had the accident report, the emergency room report, and the synapsis of the whole accident scene. She started referring to Stephaine as "that fucking slut."
Celeste Olefsen was diametrically opposite to Stephaine Reilly. She was smart, and basically kind. But she was also pissed. She strode into her office and sat down. She hit the intercom button, and spoke to her new secretary, Heidi. "Heidi, would you ask Lanie from HR to come see me, please?" She contemplated the situation, and waited for Lanie. Soon the young lady from HR knocked, and entered , and said "You sent for me, ma'am?"
"Yes, Lanie, please sit down. I want to talk to you, and I want some honest answers. If you're not straight with me, you're fired. If you are honest as far as you know, every thing will be fine. Are we clear?"
Lanie shuddered. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best."
"What do you know about my late husband's 'amorous activities'? Any rumors, or hard truths?"
She hesitated: "Ma'am, your husband tried to keep his activities discreet, but his friend, not so much. Rumor has it his secretary was doing everything except shine his shoes. Only rumor, but many of the girls didn't take too kindly with the way she treated her husband. He is a real sweetheart, and well liked.
"Then this happened, and he was devastated. He is at the hospital every day, and goes from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 a. m., then from 7:00 p.m. till closing. He reads to her, and holds her hand. And then there's the baby, he..."
Her head snapped up at the words. "The WHAT?" she said. "The baby... You didn't know? They are trying to keep her alive to bring the baby to term, or as close to it as possible. She is about 41/2 months along. You really didn't know?" "No, I had no idea." "Shawn didn't know she was pregnant, either. He was devastated." 'The bastard!! He can't get me pregnant, but he breeds his SLUT!' She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and said, "Lanie, I appreciate your honesty. I want you to keep me informed of any rumors that may surface. Don't worry about anything else. Thank you."
I buzzed Heidi as Lanie left, and told her that the company lawyer, Herschel Schmidt, would be here in about 30 minutes, and to show him right in. He was coming over to make sure everything was straight with my taking control of the dealership. Soon, Heidi buzzed that Mr. Schmidt was here.
"Send him in, please."
Herschel Schmidt was 50 years old, 6'2'', and approx. 200 lbs. He worked out, and was an Army vet. But he had a round face, wire rim glasses, and a easy going demeanor which made people think he was a pushover. Married, 3 kids, and scrupulous, he was a shark of a lawyer. He took a seat in front of Celeste's desk, and they got down to business. After about 2 hours, he straightened up and said "I think that about covers everything, Mrs. Olefsen. Any other questions?"
"Please, call me Celeste."
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Olefsen, but as a strictly professional rule, I insist on surname only. It is strictly a personal thing. No offense."
"Fair enough, Mr. Schmidt. I need to know if you would consider being my personal attorney. I am very pleased with your ethics, and I need my own attorney, apart from a company lawyer." He looked at her for a few seconds, then asked "Is there any particular reason for this, ma'am?"
She hesitated briefly, then asked "Do you know anything about my late husband's amorous interludes with his secretary?"
"Yes, I did. I was not in agreement with his actions. He had some ideas of things to do that I did not agree with, and I told him so. He said he didn't care, and if I would not agree with his actions, he would pull the dealership's business from our practice. I stalled as long as I could, and was just about to terminate when he had his accident."
I was slightly taken aback by his admission, and asked what he meant. He studied me for a moment, then asked if I had seen the 'red ledger.' I had no idea what he was talking about, and said so. He lowered his eyes, and said "In the left hand top drawer, unlock it, and remove the vertical stationary rack. There is a false bottom there also. Remove it, take out the contents."
I opened the top center drawer, took the keys, and unlocked the left top drawer. There were numerous items in there, in addition to the aforementioned vertical rack.
"Before you remove the contents, consider this: What do you know about what your husband was doing? Do you really know what he was like?" In response, I slid the police report, the emergency room report, and the entire accident scenario report over to him. He perused the reports quickly, and slid them back to me. "I'm not surprised. However, there's more. You can get the items from the drawer now."
I removed the contents, then the vertical stationery rack. The were two plugs than popped out of the false bottom, allowing it to slide forward about an inch. I removed the false bottom, and took out two file folders, a large manila envelope, and the aforementioned red leather bound ledger. It was inscribed "Personal Ledger of Richard Olefsen."
"The first file folder, I believe, are your medical records, along with a falsified copy of them, and his. He was going use to use them to force you to terms."
"Terms?"
