Author's Note: Thanks again to the people who helped me on this. Their help was invaluable. Special thanks to Wetapap and my volunteer editor Angel Love.
Mike drove for hours, finally stopping at a bar he used to frequent in the old days. He didn't recognize anyone there, but stayed anyway and drank until Midnight. On the way out, his cell phone rang. He saw their home number on the caller id. He smashed the phone to the ground as he got in his car, wondering where he was supposed to go.
Michelle was going out of her mind with worry. It had been a very bad night. With all three of the men together, they had decided it would be fun to humiliate her. It seemed almost like they were competing to outdo each other. When they were finished fucking her every way they could think of, they took her to the bathtub where they made her lay down and they pissed on her...another first. Sadly she wondered if there was anything left she hadn't been subjected to and again was afraid of the answer.
She showered, had a couple of drinks at the bar for strength, then went home to face Mike's anger. She would have given anything if he would hold her like before, just for tonight. When she reached their house, she opened the garage door to find his car was gone. She rushed into the house to see if he left a message.
He hadn't. It looked like nothing had been disturbed since she left that morning and she didn't know if she was more afraid that he had left her, or that something may have happened to him. She couldn't call her parents and had spurned most of her friends during the last few months, so again she leaned on Stacy.
After talking with Michelle, Stacy dressed immediately and began driving over, very concerned. She knew that there were only two possibilities. Either something had happened to him, or he must have found out somehow. Knowing Mike, there was no other reason he wouldn't be home.
She was waiting to turn left at a light when she saw Mike's car fly past. She floored it and followed. He was weaving badly and she wondered if he was hurt or drunk (or both). He finally stopped at a roadside motel and she pulled into a space away from him as she saw him enter the lobby.
He soon came back out, went to a room on the first floor and let himself in. Seconds later she was banging on the door, ready to tear his head off for worrying them so much. When he opened the door, all those thoughts evaporated.
He looked terrible. His clothes were a mess, he smelled like beer and he had a wild look in his eyes like he was on the edge of a breakdown. He saw her and waved his hand dismissively, "Go away Stacy, I don't have anything to say to you."
She braced herself; "Michelle is worried out of her mind. What the hell is going on?"
He looked at her with contempt, "I don't think she's that upset. If she is, she can go back and fuck her three new friends."
Stacy looked down in shame and couldn't meet his glare.
She flinched as he began yelling,
"You knew, you fucking bitch!"
He tried to slam the door but she got her foot in the way. It hurt like hell but she wasn't going to let this go on.
She pushed past him into the room. "You need to know what's really going on Michael, right now!" He didn't want to listen, but knew that nothing short of physically moving her was going to make her leave and he had never harmed a woman; it wasn't in his nature. He sighed as she continued. "Mike, are you in any shape to listen to me or do you need coffee."
He responded mockingly. "I need about two days of sleep and a bottle of JD."
Stacy started to get angry. "Well guess again, because that's not going to happen. When you find out the truth, it's going to be hard enough, don't make this worse."
Mike looked at her skeptically, "Fine, go ahead and talk. I'm not stupid enough to get hammered and then get behind the wheel. I'd rather go to sleep but if you think there's something I should know about, then start talking ."
"In a minute," Stacy muttered. "I need to let Mikki know you're OK." She used her cell and made a quick call. "Michelle, I found him, he's OK."
Mike could hear the explosion of yelling from four feet away. "Let me talk to him...Is everything alright...Please tell him I'm sorry...."
"Don't worry," Stacy tried to calm her. "He got mad, went to a bar and got shit-faced. You can't blame him. Things have been rough between you two and he doesn't know what to think."
Mike was about to enter the conversation when a very angry gesture from Stacy abruptly shut him up. "No, I promise I won't." He heard her say. "He's sleeping it off at a motel, I'll make sure he gets his stupid ass home in the morning. You just take care of yourself. I love you too...bye."
"Alright, what's going on and why did you tell her that?" Mike demanded.
"First you need coffee. Even if you don't feel as bad as you look, this is a long story, trust me, you want to be clear-headed. Go straighten yourself out, I'll run across to the breakfast place, get a couple and be right back." Mike went into the bathroom wondering if it was possible for things to be worse than he already thought.
When Stacy got back, they sat on the edge of the bed and she began. "OK, this is going to be very hard to hear, so you need to prepare yourself," she warned.
"Harder than seeing my wife be a slut with three strangers?" he asked sarcastically.
"Yes. Much harder," she said sadly. Stacy then laid out everything she knew about the situation including his accident, Michelle's decision, finding her on the couch and her behavior since that night.
Mike was furious. "And that's supposed to make me feel better! She stupidly agreed to fuck every guy that asks because she doesn't want me to get hurt." His voice rose as each word was filled with more disdain than the last.