I am sent on a miserable field assignment for the company. The work is simple and involves little use of my skills, but it is physically exhausting. I try to phone the wife at night, several times, only to have to settle for leaving a message on the answering machine. Since I never receive an answer from my wife, I figure that something has gone wrong. Since it seemed that our relationship was in trouble when I left, I am not too surprised.
I return from my miserable field assignment to find that my [now-ex] wife has disappeared with the trailer in which we were living [or whatever it was we were doing.] I am really heartbroken, as almost everything I own in the world is in that trailer. Fortunately, over the years, I have built up a network of friends in low places. In a surprisingly short time I find out, via the grapevine, where the trailer is now located. Unfortunately, it is just across the line, in another state. It turns out, the local sheriff there is not going to be cooperative. Breaking and entering is out of the question, due to my high moral standards. Also, the local sheriff knows that I want my stuff and I am allergic to lead, particularly high speed lead. No problem, I file for bankruptcy. You don't have to be broke to file for bankruptcy, it is just another legal process. Since all my records are in the trailer, I don't have any idea where I am financially. Bankruptcy is a federal legal matter, not a state legal matter. Once I tell the Bankruptcy Court where the trailer can be found, the federal law is dispatched and we find my wife and her new lover smoking [it aint tobacco.]
Due to the circumstances, the law will let me get my personal stuff. I begin carrying the cardboard boxes containing my stuff out to my pickup. To my surprise, my wife puts up a fight over the cardboard box with my underwear. Now, my tight whites are a national department store name brand, but what is my ex-wife's problem here?
Well, it seems that she tells the police that the underwear is her lover's underwear, not mine.
The law thinks this over and notes that lover boy and I are different size people. For once the law comes up with a solution worthy of Solomon. 'The underwear belongs to the guy it fits.' The man in charge then tells my wife, "If it isn't your lover's underwear, there is the matter of a false report to a law enforcement officer."
Well, what do you know, my wife all of a sudden decides that it is my underwear after all!
I take my stuff back to a cabin in the woods, owned by a friend of mine. He is letting me use the cabin until I can get relocated. The cabin is a bit basic [it does have indoor plumbing,] out of the way and features mainly privacy. Of course, it now also features my very much in demand underwear.
As I check through my stuff, I find photos, hidden in the box with my underwear. Apparently, my wife and her lover, along with a dozen or so couples are in some sort of partner swapping, sex orgy thing. There are a number of rather revealing photos of women and somewhat fewer photos of men. Most of the women's photos could be submitted for a gynecological exam. Most of the photos featuring men are action shots, also featuring a woman. I mean, these photos are a fire hazard, just sitting there! I am not really sure what to do with the photos, but I can not bring myself to just throw them out. I put the photos in a very safe place until I can figure out what to do with them.
The next day, I get a call at work from a lawyer, who it turns out is also one of the women in the photos. Lawyer lady has a very sexy voice. She wants all of her photos back, NOW! She gets a bit nasty about the matter.
So I tell her, "Fine, we can arrange for the return of your photos." However, there will be a fee involved. There will be no cash involved, the fee will be in kind [lawyer term, meaning pussy here.]
