The Cheating Zone 02 Roger

This is the second entry in my "Cheating Zone" series. Remember, this is a work of fiction and is not to be taken literally... As always, constructive comments are always welcome.

*****

It was a Friday night and Roger Cates was out doing what he had been doing on almost every other night of the week for the last several years -- looking for another woman to bed. Tonight, he decided to take the bypass north of the main city, thinking the lightly-traveled route would get him to his destination sooner. He had heard that a new club had opened on the east side and he was anxious to check it out.

He thought about the discussion he had with his father earlier in the day. It was an old argument they had been having for years but it never ceased to irritate him.

"Dammit, Roger, you're 35 years old now. You can't keep living like this. You need to settle down, get a job, get married. Think of your future for once in your life," his father said.

"Well, I like my life, Dad," he said. "I've done okay so far."

"Only because you've been living off your trust fund all these years. What about family, your future?"

"I'm doing okay and the fund is set up to keep me going for years," Roger said.

Roger was right about the trust fund. It was set up to keep him well-funded for the rest of his life, so in his mind he never needed to worry about a job or retirement. But his father had a point. At 35, Roger had never worked a day in his life and spent all his time partying, playing golf and chasing women.

"Find 'em, fuck 'em, forget 'em," was his motto where women were concerned. After 17 years of one-night stands and short flings, he had no desire to settle down with one woman, especially after seeing his friends get financially raped by their wives in messy divorces. Of course, they were all cheaters and had it coming, but still...

"One of these days, karma's gonna catch up to ya, son," his father said, shaking his head. "And you know what they say -- karma can be a bitch."

"Well, I'll deal with that when the time comes," Roger said.

He turned up the radio in the car, hoping the music would chase the memory out of his head.

He noticed a signpost ahead that read, "Karma city limits Pop. 2,745."

Odd, Roger thought, "I've been down this road hundreds of times and never saw that before." He slowed down to match the speed limit, but apparently he didn't slow down fast enough. He heard the siren wail before the flashing lights caught his attention.

"Dammit," Roger said to himself as he pulled over to the side of the road.

"Drivers license, registration and proof of insurance, please," the officer said, looking inside Roger's car. Roger obeyed, handing the officer the requested documents. The policeman went back to his car and Roger watched as the officer spoke into a radio microphone.

The officer finally came back to the car, and handed Roger his papers.

"Turn the vehicle off and step outside, please, Mr. Cates," the officer said, one hand on his revolver.

Roger did as he was told and got out of his car.

"Hands on top of the car, feet back and spread out," the officer said. Roger obeyed.

"What did I do, officer?" Roger asked. "I was going the speed limit."

"You're Roger Cates, correct?" the officer asked.

"Yes, I am," Roger replied. "Why?"

"You're under arrest for violation of Special Ordnance Number 1, Mr. Cates," the officer said before reading him his Miranda rights.

"What?" Roger asked. "What the hell is that?"

The officer tightened the handcuffs on Roger's wrists before answering. He had been looking forward to this for a few years, since Roger was the man who seduced his wife and destroyed his marriage. Roger didn't know it at the time, of course, but that didn't matter to the officer.

"You'll find out soon enough," the officer said as he put Roger in the back seat and closed the door.

"What about my car?" Roger asked.

"Don't worry, it's being impounded," the officer said. "You can arrange to pick it up once you've been cleared by the court to do so."

A few minutes later, Roger was led into the police station where he was fingerprinted, photographed and processed. He couldn't help but notice the looks of contempt shot his way by everyone in the police station.

"Can I at least make a phone call?" Roger asked the officer processing him. The policeman pointed to a rotary pay phone on the wall. Roger turned and looked at it.

"What the hell is this?" he asked.

"It's called a 'telephone,'" the officer said sarcastically, prompting snickers among the other officers.

"Can't I use my cell phone," Roger asked.

"Ain't got no cell service here, boy," another officer said. "This ain't New York City, you know."

"This here's Karma, boy," a third officer said, prompting laughter. "Ain't it a bitch?"

It took Roger a while to figure out how to use the telephone and finally placed a collect call to his father, who answered on the first ring.

"Dad, you gotta help me," Roger said.

"Slow down, son," his father said. "What happened? Where are you?"

"Dad, I'm in this little town called Karma, and I was arrested."

"Arrested? For what?" his father asked.

"Something called Special Ordinance Number 1. I have no idea what that is and no one will tell me."

"Hmmm. Special Ordinance Number 1, huh? Sounds pretty serious to me."

"Dad, please, you gotta get the lawyers to get me out of here," Roger pleaded.

"I'll see what I can do, son, but no guarantees. Sounds like a local matter. Karma, you say?"

"Yes, Dad, Karma," Roger said.

"Well, you know I've been telling you for years that karma was gonna catch up to you some day. You be good and we'll see what can be done, okay?"

"Okay, Dad, thanks," Roger said, hanging up the phone.

Finally, he was taken to a holding cell and unceremoniously dumped inside. The cell door closed with a loud noise and the guard smirked as he turned the key, locking the door.

"I've been looking forward to this for years," he told Roger.

"Why?" Roger asked. "I haven't done anything wrong." The guard looked at him as though he was contemplating a pile of dog crap on the ground.

"You really don't know, do you?" the guard asked. Roger shook his head.

"Do you recognize me?" the guard asked. Roger shook his head.

"No, I don't. Should I?" he asked.

"Well, if you're going to fuck someone's wife, you should at least know who her husband is. Or rather, ex-husband. Thanks to you, I no longer have a wife, my children no longer have a mother and we no longer have a happy home. Of course, you don't care about things like that, do you?"

"I'm sorry. Who was your wife?" Roger asked.

"It don't matter," the guard said. "We're divorced, thanks to you. Have been for two years now. Hope you're happy. Your lawyer will be along shortly. Enjoy your stay," he said with an evil grin.

Roger sat down on the bunk in his cell and waited for his lawyer. Eventually, he was escorted to a small room where a short, fat, balding man wearing horn-rimmed glasses was sitting at a table.

"Are you my attorney?" Roger asked.

"Yes," the man said. "John Hultner," he added, shaking Roger's hand.

"So, what is it I'm charged with?" Roger asked.

"Special Ordinance Number 1," John said. "It's a special city law that goes to the heart of why Karma was established. And from what I can tell, it's pretty much an open-and-shut case."

"What do you mean?" Roger asked.

"Look, Roger, I'm not going to lie to you. I didn't even want this case but I was told to take it so that's what I'm going to do," he said.

"Why?" Roger asked.

"Because you fucked my wife four years ago at a bar in Baltimore. I caught you in the act and divorced her. I would've taken action against you but you had already left the city," he said.

Roger remembered that trip to Baltimore. He was checking out a new bar that had opened and met a gorgeous blonde, who happened to be a pretty good dancer. It didn't take much work to seduce her -- a few well-timed compliments and the obligatory contact on the dance floor and in no time, he was slipping her eight inches of cock in the men's room. He vaguely remembered hearing the door open and close, but he was too horny to care. He did, however, manage to fill the girl's tight pussy with a copious amount of cum at least twice before leaving.

"Anyway, you got her pregnant but she miscarried," John said. "I kicked her ass out of the house and divorced her. Fortunately, I had a prenuptial so I wouldn't have to give her any spousal support. I recently came here and became a public defender."

"I'm sorry," Roger said. "I had no idea she was married."

"Whatever," John said. "There was a time I wanted to shoot you in the fucking balls, but that would've only landed me in jail. Tell me, Roger, how many women have you screwed in your life?"

"I have no idea," Roger said. "I never kept score."

John opened a book and thumbed through the pages before finding what he was looking for.

"From what I can tell, you lost your virginity at 18, then became something of a pussy hound, screwing as many women as you possibly could. Most were just one-night stands or casual encounters like my wife, but it appears you did have a few repeat performances and you managed to have several week-long flings, like that cruise you took with the wife of an engineer. You remember that, I'm sure," John said.

Roger was stunned. How could this man know all that?

"According to our records, you've screwed no less than 5,174 separate women since your eighteenth birthday. Granted, quite a few of those were college coeds and of course, a number of those trysts were as part of one orgy or another, but it seems you have a real hard time keeping your wick dry," John said.

"At least 1,500 of those encounters were with married women. And every one of those encounters prompted a divorce. Think of it, Roger. Fifteen hundred broken homes all because of your dick. Hundreds of children suffering because of you and your selfish desire to fuck everything that moves. That's your life," John said. "And that's why Karma was established. You see, many of those 1,500 married men you cuckolded are right here. Many of their children are here as well. Some of them have been waiting for this moment for years."

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be defending me?" Roger said.

"I am. I'm telling you why you're here and what you're facing. I'll do everything I can to keep you from being handed a death sentence, which is just one possible punishment you now face. But I have to be honest. It's not going to be easy. You're guilty as sin and you know it."

"What can I do to make this go away?" Roger asked.

"Well," John said, "you have a huge trust fund. You can relinquish, say, 90 percent of it as reparations for the husbands and children you've hurt. I see you also have a very expensive condo and some expensive cars. You could sell all that off as well."

"But what would I live on?"

"Do what everyone else does," John said. "Get a job. Might be rough since you don't have a work history, but you'll get used to it. You can make do on far less than you're getting now. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but frankly, you don't have much of a choice," John said. He stood up and prepared to leave. "Think it over. You have until tomorrow morning at 8:00 am. The court will be open Saturday for this, since it's a special case. You have a chance to make things right, Roger. Take it. Trust me on this, you'll get no sympathy in this town."

John left as the guard escorted Roger back to his cell. Another guard was already there with a metal tray full of food. Roger looked at the mess in the tray.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Specialty of the house," the guard said. "Shit on a shingle. It was good enough for our boys fighting the Nazis so it ought to be good enough for you. Besides, this ain't one of them fancy eating places in New York City."

"I know," Roger sighed. "This is Karma."

"Got that right, boy," the guard said. "Ain't it a bitch?" The two guards laughed hysterically at that.

Roger ate what he could and finally got some sleep. Early the next morning, two guards came and escorted him to the courthouse after ensuring he showered and shaved.

The courtroom was full of spectators, mostly men Roger had cuckolded over the years, and quite a few children. The room erupted when Roger was brought in, manacled and wearing an orange jump suit.

"Get a rope!" one person yelled.

"Hang the fucker," said another. "Cut his balls off!" yelled another. "Feed him to the dogs!" someone shouted. There were plenty more catcalls, most of them demanding Roger's humiliation and eventual death.

The bailiff ordered everyone to stand as the judge walked in from his chambers. He sat down, looked at Roger with a frown and pounded his gavel.

"Order in the court," he declared. The courtroom settled down, but all eyes were on Roger, and they were filled with hate.

"Is the prosecution ready?" the judge asked.

"The prosecution is ready," the District Attorney said. The judge looked at John.

"Is the defense ready?" he asked.

"The defense is ready," John said.

"How does ass, er, the defendant plead?" the judge asked. John stood up from his chair.

"Your honor, the defendant pleads guilty and is ready to throw himself on the mercy of the court," John said.

"I'll bet he is," the judge said. "I still want to give the DA a chance to make his case." He pointed at the DA. "Get on with it, Harold. Present your case."

"Thank you, your honor," Harold said, standing up. "Your honor, the prosecution calls the defendant to the stand."

"Very well," the judge said. He pointed at Roger and motioned for him to take the stand. "Get on up here, boy," he ordered. Roger complied and swore to tell the truth.

"Are you Roger Cates?" Harold asked. Roger nodded his head.

"Yes, I am," he said. Harold nodded his head and sat down. "Your witness," he told John.

"No questions at this time," John said.

"Your honor, the prosecution rests," Harold said. The judge nodded his head and turned to John.

"Well?" the judge asked.

"Your honor, the defendant has a statement he'd like to make and the defense has a motion for restitution," John said.

"All right. What have you got to say for yourself, young man?" Roger stood and nervously faced the judge.

"Your honor, I'm sorry if I've caused any pain. That was never my intention, and I hope my offer of restitution will help make things right," he said.

"If you've caused any pain?" the judge asked sarcastically. "Take a look around you, boy. Every single man you see in this courtroom has been hurt by your selfish need for sexual gratification. That includes me, by the way. Outside is a whole town full of men and children hurt by what you've done.

"You've spent the last 17 years chasing pussy to the exclusion of everything else. You haven't had a single job in your entire life and from what I see, barely graduated college. I'm sure that was just so you could keep getting the dividends from your trust fund. I know your father is very disappointed with what you've done.

"And so am I. I've looked at your offer of restitution and I know that it's a sacrifice. Unfortunately, it's not enough. I'll set aside my personal desire to see your nuts cut off in the public square for now and I hereby sentence you to life.

"Just so you know, Mr. Cates, that's life in Karma, with Karma. Personally, if it were me, I think I'd prefer the death penalty. But I'm a reasonable man. In addition, I hereby order that you relinquish 95 percent of all your worth and worldly goods to be equally distributed among all the men and children you've hurt. That will leave you with just about enough to get started again.

"It also means you'll have to get a job. Or two. Hell, maybe even three.

"And Mr. Cates, remember, Karma really is a bitch." He brought his gavel down.

"Court is adjourned," he said.

Roger felt woozy as the judge issued his sentence. What did he mean, life in and with Karma? Was he going to be forced to live in this backward, black and white town with all the men he's cuckolded over the years? And what kind of job could he get?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a shrill beeping sound that seemed to come from everywhere...

...Roger automatically reached out to turn his alarm clock off, trying to shake the dream out of his head. He looked around at his dreary basement surroundings and stumbled into the grimy little bathroom to empty his bladder.

His first thought upon getting to the toilet was, 'what the hell?' He looked down and noticed his manhood, or what there was of it, was nothing compared to what he was used to seeing. The eight inches he used to sport was now barely two.

He examined himself in the mirror and was horrified at what he saw. Instead of a confident, sculpted 35-year-old man with a full head of hair, he saw a fat, balding man with large, dark bags under his eyes.

A shrill female voice interrupted his morning constitutional.

"Get your lazy ass out of that bed or you're going to be late to work! And don't forget you have a six-hour shift at McDonald's after you finish cleaning the school," the voice screeched.

"Yeah, yeah," Roger said in response. He showered, dressed and headed upstairs. He was met by an attractive brunette putting the finishing touches on her dress. He noticed a bracelet that read, "Karma."

"Karma?" he asked. The brunette looked at him with disdain.

"Yeah?" she asked. "What do you want?"

"What's on your schedule?" he asked. She laughed.

"I'm going on a date," she said. She lifted her short skirt to reveal a tiny thong. "You think Carl would like these?"

"Who's Carl?" Roger asked.

"Carl Renquist. You fucked his wife a while back. So he's going to fuck me. Don't wait up, I doubt I'll be home tonight. But if I am, don't bother coming into the master bedroom cause he'll probably be screwing me in our bed," she said. "Maybe if you're nice, you'll get to lick his cum out of my pussy. And no, there's no way I'm letting you stick that tiny little pee-pee in me, so get that out of your head right now.

"Oh, and don't forget, after your shift at McDonald's, you need to head over to my dad's store and sweep the aisles. Better get moving, you have a lot to do today," she said.

"Do I get a break sometime today?" Roger asked. Karma laughed.

"Break? Hell no. Who's gonna pay for all my clothes and all my jewelry? I have to look good for my dates, you know.

"Oh, and a little reminder -- yeah, I'm a bitch. Get over it, asshole. And get your worthless ass to work. Bye," she said walking out the door.

Roger stood there for a few minutes before shuffling back to his basement bedroom.

The small black-and-white television in one corner was still on and Roger noticed a Twilight Zone marathon was playing. He went to turn the television off and noticed the grim face of the narrator looking at him with derision.

"Meet Roger Cates," the man said. "A worthless excuse of a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth who wasted 17 years of his life chasing women and leaving destruction everywhere he goes. He was warned, repeatedly, but refused to learn his lesson. But Roger now knows that karma can literally be a real bitch. It's a lesson he'll spend the rest of his life learning... in the Cheating Zone."

The narrator took a long drag off his cigarette and shook his head.

Fade to black...