Chapter 1

Caution: This Thriller Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Reluctant, Coercion, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Slut Wife, Cuckold, Revenge, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, .

Desc: Thriller Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A revisit of the story "Lost in the Snow", Jezzaz style.

Something different from me. I’ve never done this – stepped on FinishTheDamnStory’s toes before – but this has been lurking in my subconscious for a while, and the offending story popped up today in the Literotica Random Stories, and I just had to do this, for my own sanity.

There’s this four-part story called “Lost in the Snow”, by Serendipity300. Now, I don’t mean to insult another author’s work, but something in that story truly doesn’t sit well with me. The main protagonist, Eric, is crapped on repeatedly by his wife, by this douchebag Sam – who fathers a child with his wife, and then takes her for his own -, and by his second wife, who also has a child via this douchebag. At no point is anyone called to account for this, Eric just sits there and takes it. Time and again. And all because some Tibetan monk saw a prophecy that their child would be “The Next Generation Of Human” or some such crap.

It really rankles, how the ‘hero’ just got all this shit shoveled on him and not only did he do nothing about it, but none of the people shoveling the shit got called to account. It’s a well-written story apart from that – the characters are interesting, the dialog fine, the plotting moves along at a fair clip and there are twists and turns. It’s just the actual plot that drives me up the wall.

So yeah. I’ve kinda taken the premise of the story, and re-written it my way. I feel like this is a bit insulting to the original author, and I apologize for that, but I just can’t not do it (double negative! Doh!) – my very soul calls out to correct the imbalance in the story. You might want to try reading the original one, to get an idea of what I’ve reused and what I’ve not.

For a change, this was not edited by my usual editor, since he’s off having a life event. Instead, I’m breaking in a new Editor, named DeAnna. Thank you DeAnna, for making this better.

So here we go. Stone Cold – or Lost in the Snow Redux. Whatever you want to call it.

My name is Trevor, and I’m an evil son of a bitch. Oh I am. No question there. You’ll understand in a bit. This is a story of betrayal, evil done to others, humiliation, revenge, bullshit prophecies – some of which I’ve come to what was really intended ... no ... wait. I’m not going to prejudice you on this. I need to tell the story as it happened, and let you judge. I doubt you’ll be kind to me once you’ve heard it, but on the other hand, you can count the number of fucks I give about that on the fingers of a sperm whale.

I was born in Barnsely, in England. Yeah. Baahnslei. I still have that accent when I’m stressed or angry, despite years of doing my best to be rid of it. The Barnsely accent is like the deep south of the USA – no one with that accent is someone you want at the controls of your aircraft or doing brain surgery on you. It’s not associated with brains at all. Which is a shame, since Yorkshire has produced a lot of smarty pants. They just don’t sound like it. Hell, the steam train was invented in the Newcastle.

Anyway, I got a degree in engineering, at Manchester University, and left as soon as was decently possible. My family, well, I had a Dad, who died when I was nineteen. My mother vanished when I was eight. I still don’t know exactly why, but I think it was due to the fact that my Dad was an overbearing bigot, full of opinions, bollocks and beer. While I was pissed off with my Mum doing a vanishing act, there were quite a few times when I was quite empathetic to her, and just wished she’d taken me with her. I didn’t have any siblings, so once Dad died, it was just me. I had heard I had cousins from mum’s side, but Dad never made any effort to get into contact with them, so I never got to know them. I still have no clue who they might be, since I had no details on mum, like her maiden name, for example.

That’s the Stevenson Clan then. Trevor Elliot Stevenson. That’s my potted family history.

I was lucky in that I got an engineering apprenticeship – designing and building bridges, of all things – with a company in Huddersfield, which was then bought up by a company in Maryland, called Bardels Inc. So I moved out there as soon as I was able to wrangle it. They got me an H1B visa to emigrate out to the US and I was off to the races!

The US was an education. Mostly in how bloody stupid my accent sounded, but also in how American women responded to it. I honestly thought I’d died and gone to heaven for a while there. I got seriously laid for that first year I was out there.

But I worked. Oh I worked. I took every on site job the company had – it was a consultancy group that wanted to get into the physical construction aspect of Engineering, hence them buying the place I was at. But because the company still did a lot of consultancy, there were lots of opportunities to go do different things. I built bridges in Japan, I helped strip mine copper in South Africa, I leveled mountains in China. I had, frankly, a hell of an education and a whale of a time and got to see some of the world at the same time. Not the “View from a nice four-star hotel” world, but the “We are lucky if the showers work and the toilet is a fragrant hole in the ground” view. The real view if you like.

And then Sarah came into my life. I remember it as though it were yesterday. I was back at head office, and there she was. The new receptionist. I just stopped and stared. I mean, for me, it was love at first sight. There might have been violins and soft focus and dancing cherubs, for all I know. Red hair, porcelain skin, a smile to die for, even when she frowned, it was the cutest thing. Little dimples in her cheeks. Even great teeth. She was five foot six, figure to die for, curves in all the right places. I was absolutely in love, even from a distance.

All I do know is that I got the ribbing of my life from my office mate for a couple of weeks because of how affected I was, before I got up the courage to actually ask her out.

I couldn’t believe it when she said, “Yes, I’d love to!” and fluttered those eye lashes. We went out for Sushi, which thinking back, probably wasn’t a great move because while I knew what I liked, I didn’t have a clue how to introduce someone else to eating what is effectively raw fish on sticky rice.

But I needn’t have worried, she took to it like a duck to water. She babbled and I was entranced. I learned that she was living with her Aunt, she was from Iowa, her family were farmers, that had a live in license on someone else’s land, she loved French movies, spoke fluent French, harbored a desire to tour France, was an accredited sommelier, and took Yoga when she could find the time.

I just sat and stared at her and let the words wash over me. I was totally lost.

To cut a long story short, we dated for a few weeks, I got to first, then second base, and then, one night of boozing after St. Patricks Day, we did it.

And when I say, we did it, I mean We. Did. It. All night. And most of the next day. It was just, well, they say out of this world and in our case, it was. I was seeing stars. She said she was too.

We were happy. Broke, but happy. The life of a nomadic engineer isn’t one full of cash, at least not until you get to be the gaffer on the job. Occasionally I’d get danger money, but between us, we made do. We moved in together and I put in for more local work, perhaps start up the management chain. I’d put in my dues, no one could argue that.

We were extremely sexually compatible. I’m not huge, but I’m not small either. I fit in her just right and she loved it. We experimented, but not too far. Neither of us where into BDSM or water sports or anything like that, but we had a few occasions where we’d role play, or, in one memorable new year, she’d dressed up for me. I’ll never forget it – her red hair, shiny and glossy, draped around her neck. A black velvet choaker, a simple black jacket, with one button, done up over the top of a Fredericks of Hollywood corset. It pushed up her boobs, and you got a bunch of cleavage in your view, with the hint of something satiny holding them up, before the jacket closed over it. I knew what was underneath, but there was only a hint for others. A tantalizing and extremely sexy hint, but only a hint. A short pleated black skirt came below the jacket, with black seamed nylons under that. I knew they were stockings, because she was wearing a corset, complete with garters. If she bent over enough, you’d just be able to see the tops of her stockings – another teaser because I never knew if she was going to or not. I think she quite forgot that could happen over the evening, because she did bend over a few times. It was all set off with 4 inch CFM pumps. Nothing subtle about those at all. Oh, and no panties.

I knew for a fact that heads turned wherever she went, and I made no bones about the pleasure I took in knowing she was mine. Those others could look all they want, but she went home with me. The teasing was for me and no one else.

We screwed that night. Oh my god we screwed. I did her twice while we were out and about. I’m assuming she had wipes in her bag, because otherwise she’d have had my cum dribbling down her leg all night. Hell, we spent most of dinner with my fingers in her pussy, making her squirm. Every now and then I’d lick my fingers, gazing into her eyes. It was a hell of a night.

Not every night was like that, but it did happen on occasion. And I gave as good as I got. I once set up a day spa for her. I knew what the spa was – it was one of those places that took it to the limit, suggestive wise, but didn’t go over the top. Their specialty was to drive your spouse up the wall with erotic massages and so on, and then, when they were at their height of arousal, send them back to your room, where you’d be waiting. It cost me almost a seven hundred bucks, which was a lot for us back then, but oh my god, was it worth it. She was jelly when she got back to the room and I swear she almost came just from me kissing her. That was another weekend worth marking on the calendar.

Sarah and I were like two peas in a pod. She’d finish my sentences for me. We thought similarly enough that the big decision were almost no brainers for us. We’d fight about the smaller stuff, like all couples did. She had a habit of spending money and then using sex to apologize – “better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” she’d say, usually naked, before reducing me to a quivering mass. I had a habit of buying stuff for our apartment without asking her, and as the mistress of that domain, she’d get huffy about it. I came home with a pretty great print of the Death Star rising behind Yavin 4 once, and hung it up in the living room. When she got home that day, well, lets just say that there was only one Star Wars fan in our house, and it wasn’t her.

We were made for each other. She never looked at another man, and I never looked at another woman – we didn’t even have to talk about it, we just lived in our little cocoon. It was us against the world. Like I said, we fought, and she could be a little vindictive – she didn’t speak to me for a week once over something trivial that I can’t even remember, and I could also hold a grudge if I felt it was necessary. I held justice – not revenge – very dearly in my heart, and if I was wronged, I would take steps to correct it. She knew it, and she knew when she stepped over the line, as did I. It might take a while, but we would always end up apologizing to each other if things had gone too far.

Another issue I had with her – I don’t even know that it’s an issue per-se, but it sure drove me up the wall on occasion - was her empathy. Sarah was a hugely empathetic person. She felt other people’s experiences at an emotional level. She could be in tears over a movie, where she knew it wasn’t real, but it connected to her at an emotional level, bypassing her reasoning centers. She’d adopt stray dogs, or put out food for stray cats. I wouldn’t have minded – it just showed what a great heart she had – but on occasion it put cramps in our plans, and for what? So she could stay up all night and nurse a bird with a broken wing back to health? I gave up a birthday dinner for that?

And that’s just the animals. When it came to humans, it was even worse. A child left alone? Saint Sarah to the rescue. A friend with relationship issues? Saint Sarah was there, with a bottle of wine, a soppy movie and tissues. One friend had a divorce and Sarah virtually moved in with the woman for a couple of weeks. It was lovely that she felt that strongly for other people, but there does come a point where it starts to impact your own life to the extent where it feels like other people are coming first. We had this discussion a couple of times, and while she understood what I was saying and promised to be more considerate of ‘our time’, it happened again. Mind you, in her defense, she made it up to me, big time. The new years thing was one such attempt to make up for some time she spent disregarding me in favor of someone who needed her, for example. But, as I pointed out to her, while the ‘making up’ was great, I’d rather she did that because she wanted to, and not because she felt she had to make up to me. It would be better if she didn’t have to make up to me in the first place.

Of course, she had her pet issues with me too. I misjudged ‘romantic moments’ apparently. I didn’t even really know what that meant, to be honest. But I nodded the whole time and said I’d work on it. I made fun of her TV shows – she loved reality shows, the more trashy the better. Sister Wives, Dance Moms, The Kardashians and so on. I ripped them un-mercilessly if they were on when I was present. I had no respect for other people’s choices in life – occasionally when she’d put on the Florence Nightingale hat and rush off to help some friend in trouble, I’d be very insensitive about their situation – as far as I could see it was just me being honest about their circumstances. You don’t get to have everyone be sympathetic to you if you caused your boyfriend to leave because you were a round heeled slut? I mean, come on, right? Balance? Justice perhaps?

So yeah, we had our issues. We’d talked about kids, and both wanted them, without doubt, but we wanted to wait until our lives were a little more settled. I was still earning my spurs, as they used to say, so the traveling was necessary. Once that wore off, the kids would come. And we’d have a hell of a lot of fun trying.

She had some distant family – her Aunt had kids that were her cousins, but she had no immediate siblings and her parents had died years ago. Apparently she had come along late in life for them, and they’d died of natural causes, within a year of each other, when she was twenty.

We were happy. There was no question of that. Sometimes when I traveled for work, she came with me. Work wasn’t happy about it; she was some manager’s personal assistant, by this point, but they understood our need to be together, and somehow, we made it work.

Right up till the events of that winter.

I’d been pushed up to the British Columbia territory in Canada, to decommission some old oil mining equipment. That stuff is expensive, and it had been sitting dormant for four years, once the field was worked out, and the company that owned it, Dirani Oil, wanted to relocate it. But Dirani Oil was falling on harder times, and didn’t have any grunts or hard hats of their own to pull it apart, at least not that they could spare, so we got the gig, and off I went. And Sarah came with me.

It wasn’t fun, trying to get it apart. The crew I had were ok, not great, but they’d never dealt with equipment quite like this before, so it was slow going, and the weather turned brutal. Sarah was with me, and the eventful night was one where we were traveling to the local town, Fort Nelson, along Route 97. We’d been up at the private Fort Nelson Aerodrome, to wait for a supply visit from the company airplane, and found it had been called off due to the incoming inclement weather. While Fort Nelson does actually have it’s own airport, it was commercial only and we were business, so we’d had to use the less local one out of town, to the west. We spent some time admiring a very nice private jet that was in one of the hangers, wondering who owned it, and what it was doing there, but then with the incoming bad weather, we’d turned around and raced the weather back to the city, in our SUV.

But we were too late leaving. We got caught in the middle of it. It was chucking down snow – you couldn’t see more than ten feet in front of you, if that. And while we were in an SUV, it wasn’t a snow prepared SUV. We didn’t have chains and we didn’t have extra gas. And worse still, there was no phone reception out this far. No cell towers, no ability for us to communicate with the outside world and let them know we were stuck.

In the end, after being stuck three times and having to dig ourselves out, while the snow just got worse and thicker, it had become apparent we weren’t going to make it back to the city.

We sat in the cab and debated what to do.

“I dunno babe. I think we should head back to the airfield. At least they have heaters there. We can’t have gone too far.”

Sarah shook her head vigorously, rubbing her hands in front of the air vents. “I don’t think so. I think there won’t be anyone there now. I think they’ll have found ways to get home. We need to press on. There’ll be plows coming out from the city, not the other way. We’ll meet them coming out. Worse case, we can see if we can find somewhere to stay. There’s got to be some one living out here. I’m sure we past some homesteads on the way out... ?”

I looked over at her and thought about it, making mental calculations. Looking at the gas tank meter, I figured that even if we did go back, we wouldn’t have enough gas to get back to the city anyway.

“Ok. Lets do it. Worse case, we can huddle together and get naked and swap warmth. Among other things.”

Sarah looked back at me, trying to keep a straight face. “You planned this, didn’t you? Just so you could get me naked in a car.”

“Yeah,” I said flatly. “I made it snow, just so we could risk hypothermia. Because I’ve never seen you naked, and wouldn’t, if we didn’t get caught in a blizzard...”

Sometimes Sarah’s sense of humor could be slightly inappropriate. I loved her for it, but I’d had to explain it away a few times with friends too. But it was a small price to pay to have those incredible eyes look at me and crinkle up at the edges, while she was trying desperately not to laugh.

She leaned over and kissed me and I smiled back and got the car in gear and drove towards the end of my marriage.

We got about two or three miles down the road, and it was getting hard to keep us on the road, mainly because I wasn’t entirely sure what was road and what wasn’t any more – it was all just white powder. And the sun was starting to go down. I couldn’t see any lights in the distance and I was starting to get more worried, when Sarah suddenly stiffened and pointed off to the right and exclaimed, “There! There’s a light, way back from the road. Look, you can see there’s a trail up there ... we should go knock on their door. See if they have a phone or something.”

I looked over at where she was pointing, trying to see. The reflection of our lights and the amount of snow on the windshield, - that the wipers were doing their best to clear, - made it hard to see, but damn if she wasn’t right?

I flashed her a smiled and said, “We are saved!” not understanding that the exact opposite was about to happen.

We made it to the drive way and just about plowed our way through the snow, managing to get up to where there was a house, standing forlornly at the end. There was a shed some steps behind it and a large gas canister the side – your classic remote farmhouse set up. I could see another car there, deep under wedges of snow, and a light outside the house. We could see two lights on inside the house, so there was probably an occupant. We looked at each other, then braved the snow, getting out of the car and rushing to the door, our breath making big clouds of steam in the cold air.

We knocked, rang the doorbell, yelled “Hellllloooo...”, everything possible to ensure the occupants would hear us. And they did, more’s the pity.

The door creaked open, and we could see beyond it a fire crackling in a hearth built into the wall. A large man, at least six feet two inches tall leaned out and squinted at us, looking back and forth.


“Hi, um, could we ask a favor? We got caught out here ... the snow is bucketing down and there’s no chance we will make it back to the city tonight. Is there a chance we might come in and use your phone or something? We honestly have no place to go...”

Sarah got all that out, using her beguiling eyes, and leaning in, to encourage empathy. I was about to say something similar, but if it was coming from her, so much the better ... she was cuter than I was and way more persuasive.

The man looked back at us, with an expression I couldn’t fathom. It was half way from incredulity, part panic and then went to settled confidence.

It all passed his face in a second, but I saw it, and I did wonder what that was all about.

He stepped back and then said, “Of course, come in.”

We walked in and took stock of the surroundings. They were Nice. With a capital N. From the outside, the house didn’t look like much. But inside, it smelt of money and good taste.

The kitchen area was brand new, with shiny new facilities. Large 55 inch TV on the wall, with no discernable cables – as an engineer my eye immediately told me this guy had money, since it costs money to rip out a wall, install cables to hide them, then re-hardwall it. This house certainly wasn’t built with TV Cables in the wall, that’s for sure. Way too old for that.

There was recessed lighting and a nice comfortable sectional sofa, along with a crackling - real – fire going under where the TV was installed in the wall. That was another thing that gave away the fact that money had been spent. TV’s over the top of fires is generally a bad thing, since the heat going up tends to mess with the TV itself – the cabling heats up and the mount isn’t so stable because it’s constantly expanding and contracting. It takes money to rout the heat – via fireproof ducting - from a fire away from where the TV is mounted above it. Again, only stuff you’d know if you were an engineer, or had occasion to mount a TV over a fireplace.

It smelt of money, and my face must have given it away, since the man gestured around and said, “My late wife’s influence I’m afraid. I wouldn’t know a sconce from a cushion I’m afraid.”

I felt Sarah tense in sympathy, and heard her murmur, “I’m so sorry for you loss.”

The man looked directly at Sarah with an indecipherable look and then said, slowly, “Well, it comes to us all. I’m a firm believer that when one door closes, another opens.”

I had no idea what that meant at the time, but looking back, I should have taken Sarah by the hand and gone out to the car and just done our best to reach civilization. But I wasn’t to know what would come.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners,” the big man said, spreading his hands. “I’m Sam Fellows. You are... ?”

“I’m Trevor Stevenson. This is...”

“I’m Sarah. Please to meet you Sam,” interrupted Sarah, pushing out both her hands to grasp his. I could see the beginning signs of her empathy for his loss marching across her face. Sympathetic expression, physicality in terms of a handclasp, her interrupting me to make it clear these are her feelings. It was all there. And when she did it, a shiver went down my back. I had no idea why at the time – now I can see it was a harbinger of what was to come.

Sam insisted on making us something warm to eat and drink, and we realized then how tired and hungry we were.

I asked him about using his phone and he grunted, “Don’t have a land line. This is my retreat from the world. When I’m here, my office knows I’m out of touch. I find it’s a good way to find out who is competent in the office and who is not. I have a cell, but as I’m sure you’ve discovered, there’s no cell coverage this far out.”

When we ate, I noticed that when we sat at the table, he sat next to Sarah, across from me. It didn’t really concern me that much at the time, although Sarah’s body language was one hundred percent oriented to Sam, her concern for his mental well being evident.

The conversation roved as we ate the frozen hamburgers Sam had warmed for us – he explained how his wife had died three years earlier, and how he’d taken a year off his business traveling the world to rediscover himself. Sarah hung off his every word, going into details about his feelings, how he felt now and all the rest of the touchy feely crap I could never get behind. She was doing that thing that some women do, where they try and find commonality of experience or feeling, in order to get closer to the other person, so they’ll share more. To me it was a fairly transparent tactic but Sam just sat there and lapped it up.

I never did get exactly what he did – he mentioned a brokerage firm and some other interest in another company, but he quite skillfully avoided actually giving details. I shrugged it off at the time – we’d only be there one night, so what did it matter?

He asked me cursorily what I did for a living and I gave the two-minute version. About three quarters of an hour in, I began to realize that this conversation wasn’t actually between all three of us – it was between the two of them. To give Sarah her due, she kept trying to include me, but beyond a few flicks of his eyes to gauge my situation, he wasn’t interested. At least that’s what it looked like.

An hour in, a bottle of wine came out, and I was further excluded from the conversation. It was a weird thing – how do you play that? Sam had already indicated we’d be sleeping on a pull out sofa bed in the main room, so it wasn’t like I could just say “Hey, we want to sleep now” to put an end to it. It was his house, so if he wanted to stay up and talk, it wasn’t our place to say no to it. But I was being further excluded by the moment and my patience was starting to wear thin. Sarah could see it – she kept stealing glances at me and could see my discomfort, but she couldn’t stop Sam from keeping his attention on her. And, to be brutally honest, I could see her empathetic side was engaged, so while I was being ignored, I could see she considered it an ok thing for the moment. Something to be ‘made up to me later’, obviously. As I said, she was big on the whole “Ask forgiveness, not permission” thing.

Eventually, after two hours of non-stop Sam-Sarah interaction, and at the point where me being dis-regarded was quite blatant, and even given the situation, I had to say something.

“So Sam,” I said somewhat forcefully to inject myself into the conversation and overriding what Sarah was about to say, “I have to say thank you for taking us in, given the weather out there, but I’m a little uncomfortable with the attention being paid to my wife here. It doesn’t feel quite ... appropriate, don’t you think?”

I was trying to be firm but conciliatory.

Sam turned to me, and regarded me with an inscrutable expression. Then he said, slowly and deliberately, “So, you feel me paying this amount of attention to your wife is wrong, do you?”

It was said flat, not in a taunting way, just a statement.

“Well, since you put it that way, yes,” I replied. “I understand you have been alone a long time, but I would point out that’s my wife and our marriage...”

“Trev!!!” exclaimed Sarah, embarrassed and obviously annoyed. “Sam just needs a sympathetic ear. That’s all. Don’t embarrass us!”

A small wry grin appeared on Sam’s face and he turned to Sarah and said, “Well, if he doesn’t like that, he’d not going to like this...”

I was taken aback and so was Sarah. Sam turned back to me.

“Look, I let you in. You can stay here. I didn’t have to, and I wouldn’t be much of a business man if I didn’t get something out of the deal. If you want to stay tonight, she,” he said, gesturing at Sarah, “stays with me in my room.”

“WHAT???” I exclaimed. Sarah was just stunned.

“You think you can just take my wife because we need to a place to crash? Fuck this, come on Sarah, lets get out of here...” I ranted.

I got up, and Sam said, smirking a bit, “What are you going to do, little man? You can’t even dig your car out. And if you just sat in it, you’d be trespassing. I’d be within my rights to shoot you. I’m taller than you, I’m bigger than you and I have a second degree black belt in Ju-jitsu, so don’t even think about coming at me. It wouldn’t go well for you. Besides, this,” he nodded at Sarah, “is ordained. It’s meant to be.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I almost screamed.

Sarah got up and came round the other side of the table and took my hand, looking into my eyes.

She glanced at Sam and said, “Sam, can we have a moment?”

Sam just nodded, picked up the wine glasses and empty bottle and walked into the kitchen.

I looked back at Sarah, who was staring intently at me.

I took a gasp of breath as I realized what she was about to say.

“Trev, look. He’s right, we are stuck here. There’s no way we can get back to the city and we can’t even dig the car out, much less have enough gas to keep the engine going all night and then get home. You know it.”

“Sarah, no...” I whimpered...

She took a deep breath and then said, “Look, its just sex. You know it’s you I love. He might have my body but he’ll never have my heart. And honestly, I can see he needs this. Three years since a woman, and his heart broken by losing his soul mate ... I kind of ache for him, Trev. It’s one night. It’s not a big deal. Not to me. I know that it’s a bigger deal for you, but you are strong. WE are stronger. Stronger than this.”

She looked around, and nodded towards the bar, “Drink his expensive scotch. Get loaded. Sleep, it’ll all be over in the morning. Then we’ll be on our way. It won’t impact us at all. Trust me.”

“NO!” I exclaimed, with a shout. “This is NOT right. It WILL impact us. You can’t just go in there and fuck him. That’s wrong and you know it, and it will be something that impacts us.”

“Trevor,” said Sarah, still holding my hands and looking at me, hissing intently and keeping her voice low, “Look, honey, we don’t have any choice here. If he kicks us out, we won’t survive the night. I’m prepared to do this just to keep us alive. To keep you alive. It’s not what I would choose either, but I think I have to do this. If you think it matters, I will personally find a woman for you to have a one night stand with once we get home, just to maintain balance. I know justice is important to you.”

“What the fuck, Sarah,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “Don’t do this. It’ll drive a wedge between us.”

“Trevor,” said Sarah, tears in her eyes now, “I have to. It’s not the right thing to do, but it’s the correct thing to do. We survive, to have our kids and live our lives. It’s worth the cost. I’ll try and get him off with a hand job or a blow job, and then I’ll come find you. Promise. I don’t want to do this either, but ... we must survive. If this is the cost, I’ll pay it.”

“I... ‘‘ I said, stumbling over the right thing to say, to make her understand that this was the wrong thing to do. That we’d not survive this. That she was destroying my heart.

She leaned forward and kissed my eyes, kissing the tears away and murmured, “Never doubt I love you and only you. No one else. I’m sorry. We will get past this.”

And then she got up and walked towards the kitchen, where Sam was waiting, in the door way.

“OK Sam, you win. Don’t expect me to enjoy it much though. Lets go, get this over with,” she said, not looking back at me. She took his hand and walked towards the bedroom door. She opened the door, walked through and Sam glanced back at me, a smug grin on his face, before he went in after her.

I couldn’t believe it. Our marriage was over in less than ten minutes of conversation. She didn’t even try and find another way around it. Not one word of what I’d said had penetrated her. From his statement to her going into the bedroom with, less than fifteen minutes had passed.

I frantically looked around for something to pick up, to hit him with. I got up and grabbed an almost full bottle of scotch off the sideboard and went to try the bedroom door. It was locked so I took a step back and threw myself at it. I bounced off it – it was reinforced. It hurt my shoulder, but I had to try again. I did, twice, and then after the second time, the door opened and Sam came out, already stripped the waist. He was buff, there was no question. He closed the door behind him and regarded me through lidded eyes. I had the bottle behind my back and walked up to him, intending to hit him with it. He must have known what I was going to do, since he side stepped the clumsy swipe I made at him, took the bottle out of my hand, regarded it for a moment, then just pushed me over.

He put the bottle down on the coffee table, then leaned forward to me and hissed, “That bottle is almost sixty years old. I was going to take it easy on you, but after this? Now I’m going to make her scream. And you are going to listen. So sit down and take your medicine boy.”

He then kicked me hard in the ribs, and went back into the bedroom. I heard the lock engage. I just lay there for a few minutes, not knowing what to do. I got up and winced at the pain in my ribs, and, without any other thing to do, I tried to find a position on the couch that didn’t hurt. I tossed and turned a bit, and then it started. I heard Sarah. She has a very distinct vocal pattern when she’s aroused, and I was hearing it in spades now. In fact, it was louder and longer than I’d ever heard before.

And it went on and on. I buried my head in the pillow on the couch and cried and cried. My wife was in there, getting plowed by this asshole and I couldn’t stop it.

At one point, I got up and grabbed every bottle of booze I could find, and emptied them all down the sink. It was a very small bit of defiance bearing in mind what he was doing to Sarah, but it was all I could think of to do.

Then, I bundled up, and I went out to the car, and spent an hour digging out the side door and the exhaust – I didn’t need to die of carbon monoxide poisoning because the exhaust couldn’t get out into the world because it was blocked by snow - and turned on the engine, gas be damned. I wasn’t going to stay in that house a moment longer. She was sure we wouldn’t have survived. Well, good. At that precise moment, I didn’t want to.

I couldn’t believe the hurt. The incredible hurt, that invades every part of every thought. I tried telling myself that we had no choice. That she had to do this. But all I came back to was the fact that my wife – the love of my life, my one person I trusted the most in the world – was in there, fucking some guy we’d literally met a few hours ago, and screaming her head off over it. And there was nothing I could do about it. The agony in my head and in my heart was over whelming. I kept crying, and then having to wipe the tears away, lest they freeze when the temperature in the car got too cold.

I didn’t sleep for a couple of hours. I kept turning the engine off for half an hour, to preserve gas, then on again. I even had to get out and re dig out the exhaust at one point, since the snow was still coming down and blocking it. I don’t even know why I did – death by carbon monoxide poisoning is painless and relatively quick. You just go to sleep and never wake up. Sarah had been right about one thing – there was no way we’d have made it to civilization that night.

I did fall asleep at about four o’clock in the morning, and I woke around 8:30, cold and very stiff, to Sarah knocking on the window. She was wrapped up in a coat, shivering, and obviously concerned. I just looked at her as she tried the door, trying to get it open, not understanding I’d locked it, staring at me. She was different. No, I was different. We were different. She was no longer the sacrosanct woman I had fallen in love with. She was ... tainted. She had willingly gone to that asshole’s bed. And I’d not been able to stop it. We were both less than we were.

Eventually, she tired of trying the door and just stood there, her breath freezing in clouds.

“Trevor,” she yelled, tapping the window again, “Come in side. It’s freezing out here. We have coffee on.”

‘We’. She’d said ‘We’. I was outside the ‘we’. I just looked at her sadly.

She was getting desperate. “Please, come in side. You’ve got to. This isn’t worth hypothermia...”

It was cold. I looked at the gas tank indicator. Still a quarter of a tank, enough to get us back to the city if we could get out. I looked around, it had stopped snowing, but everything was under at least four feet of snow, if not more.

I opened the door and got out, and she immediately tried to embrace me. She opened the coat she was wearing to try and get me inside, to warm me up. When she did, I saw she was barely wearing anything underneath. No wonder she had been shivering. I recoiled physically from her when I saw what was underneath. She had just come from that asshole and now she wanted to hold me?

She saw me recoil, and I saw the hurt in her eyes. She closed the coat and turned and walked inside.

We went inside and she had coffee on. I looked around, looking for Sam the Asshole. I was going to get even with him somehow, I just hadn’t figured out how yet.

She saw me look around and said, softly, “He’s in the shower. He saw what you’d done to all his expensive booze. He wasn’t best pleased, but he did say it was a fair swap.” She smiled at me when she said that, and the frowned when she saw I didn’t smile back.

“Fair? Fuck fair. Fair is booze for a marriage? Don’t make me laugh.”

Again, Sarah tried to embrace me, and I stepped back. Again, I saw the hurt. “It doesn’t mean anything Trevor. It really doesn’t. The only thing it means is what you make it mean. We had sex, we went to sleep, that’s all there was to it.”

“Oh really? And all the moaning and screaming? That was it, was it...”

She did look away at this statement, and went to pour me a coffee. It was at this point where I noticed she was walking with a little difficulty. Immediately concern flooded my head.

“Are you ok?” I said, getting off the stool I was sitting on. “Did he hurt you... ?”

Sarah waved me back and, again, not looking at me, she muttered quietly, “No ... he’s just ... large. I wasn’t prepared. He’s very ... filling.”

It was another knife through my heart. She knew exactly what she was saying to me, and the shame wouldn’t let her look at me while she said it.

I stumbled back to the stool and sat down heavily. Sarah came back to me, with a coffee cup in her hands and concern in her eyes.

“It’s really nothing, Trev. Honestly. He means nothing. It was survival. That’s all.”

“Nothing? NOTHING? How can you stand there and say that?” I exclaimed. “How do you balance that against the blackmail?”

“I can’t, obviously,” replied Sarah. “What he’s done is horrible and wrong. But it’s done.” She passed the coffee to me, and I took a sip.

“I can’t get over how blasé you are about this...” I said to Sarah, with more tears in my eyes.

“Oh my poor man. I’m sorry. This IS so unfair to you. I’m going to make this up to you, you wait and see.” Sarah reached out and caressed my cheek, touching the tears. “I’m going to find you a woman for your own thing. You wait and see if I don’t. We will have balance again, and then we can have those kids we’ve always wanted.”

I just shook my head and removed her hand from my face. Something was breaking and I could feel it, but she just couldn’t.

‘You don’t get it Sarah. I don’t want another woman. I just wanted you. You and me, together, with everyone else on the outside ... Another woman for me just makes me as bad as what you’ve done. I want balance, but I want it through you not fucking some other guy. Not through me doing the same.”

She grabbed both my hands with hers, in an unexpected aggressive move. “You listen here Trevor. I love you. I would march you into the guest room and prove it right now, but I’m just really sore. There WILL be children in our future, don’t ever doubt it.”

I just looked at her, not even recognizing her.

“Its over. We are free and we can leave,” she reiterated.

“I don’t think you can,” boomed a voice behind her. Sam had just left the bedroom and the en-suite bathroom. He had a towel around his waist and was bare chested, as he had been the night before. I noticed he waxed his chest. He had another towel in his hand and was rubbing his hair dry at the same time.

“According to the radio, there is more snow expected today. We should probably try and dig out your car so when there is more snow, it’s not totally buried.”

He was just so conversational, like all he’d discussed was the weather and there wasn’t another fucking huge elephant in the room.

I just sat there, with the coffee in my hands, staring at him.

“Cunt” I murmured, after a moment. It just came out, but it was so totally appropriate.

He stopped rubbing his hair and just stared at me. Sarah did too, not knowing what to say or do. There was silence for a second, Sarah stopped breathing waiting for Sam’s reaction.

Sam grunted and carried on rubbing his hair. “Fair approximation from where you sit, I suppose,” he said, magnanimously.

“Sarah, the gels I mentioned are on the side of the tub. You’ll want to use both of them in the tub, and use the jets too. It’ll sting a bit, but you’ll feel better pretty quickly.”

Sarah just looked at me, imploringly, giving me that “please...” look of both concern and shame, said, “I’m going to take a bath, I need to be ... clean,” and then she turned, hesitantly, and went into the bedroom. I noticed she was still moving gingerly.

“I gave her some gels for her soreness,” he explained, in a carefree way. He was entirely unconcerned with how I took what he had to say. “She’s not the first woman to be unprepared for me.”

I wanted to just get up and smack the man. He was larger than me and obviously in better shape, and he’d already proved it would be fruitless. But I was fucking seething, and he noticed it.

“She’s a handful alright,” he said, grinning at me. I so wanted to smash that grin off his face. “You are a lucky man. A vocal woman is always a better ride.”

“That’s my fucking wife, you cunt. You shut the fuck up,” I said, between clenched teeth.

Sam stopped drying himself again and regarded me a second time, this time longer and intense.

“Look Trevor, it happened, alright? That bell is not going to be un-rung and so you need to find a way to come to terms with it. I’ve already given you the benefit of the doubt regarding the expensive booze you wasted – that’s almost two thousand dollars of the good stuff you dumped – but don’t push it too far. I only have so much patience.”

“Fuck you and your patience,” I said, even more angry, as I jumped off the chair, hands clenched. Bigger or not, I was close to just letting it go.

“You sure you want to do that, Trevor? I let it go last night, but I might not again. I might just leave you in a pool of your own blood and dump you outside. Even though it’s light out, it’s still eleven below. I wonder how long you’d survive out there? I doubt you’d even be alive after she’s taken her bath.”

I forced myself to sit again. There’d be a reckoning all right, but on my terms.

“I hold all the aces here Trevor. You may think you can bide your time, but at some point, you’ll understand who I am and that your cards aren’t even color cards. Just twos and threes.”

I just looked at him, snarling.

He finished rubbing himself dry and disappeared back in the bedroom, coming out moments later in jeans, boots and a thick shirt.

“You know, you might want to take a shower too...” he offered. “There’s a second shower off the guest room.”

‘Guest room’? I hadn’t had to sleep on the couch? Oh fucking great.

I didn’t move and in the end he came over the table and sat down heavily in another chair.

“Look Trevor. I’m sorry you have to get hurt by all this, but this is tit for tat. You are still alive and so is she. Sarah is buying you your life here, her’s too. You need to find a way to reconcile that. I’ve been without a woman for three years now, and now one has landed in my lap, well, I’d be stupid not to go with it. I’ve had hookers, but nothing is quite as good as a willing woman, lets be frank.”

And that was it. That was the major thing for me – the realization falling into place by what Sam had just said. She WAS willing. That was the thing. She didn’t see this as any threat to her marriage. It was just fun for her. I got hurt, and she didn’t like that, that’s for sure, but since we were in this situation, she was going to make it as pleasant as possible for herself. If that meant fucking this guy with the big dick and taking out of it what she could, then she was going to do that. She was just relying on my love for her I’d get over it and we’d go back to normal once it was done. She had no idea what it was doing to me beyond some superficial worries that I was alone while she was getting all the loving. She saw it as a balance thing – all her protestations about ‘making it up to me’, ‘finding a woman for me to have for a night’ – it was all about balance. She entirely didn’t understand what the whole situation had already done to me.

I honestly couldn’t stomach being in this man’s presence any more and got up to go take a shower. As I rose to leave, he said one more thing.

“Trevor, I know you’ll find this hard to accept, but if you are here another night – and it looks pretty much like you will be – the same rules apply. She spends the night in my room. You’d better find a way to cope with that, because that’s what is happening.”

I just stood stock still for a moment, then carried on out of the room, not replying – I didn’t trust myself.

I went into the guest room and took a shower, turning the water up as hot as I could take it without being scalded. I must have been in there almost forty minutes before I started to wrinkle up like a prune. I alternately was crying – those racking sob that make your whole body convulse – and clenching my fists, running through plan after plan to get us out of there, or take down Sam Fellows. Each involved me going to jail for some fatal or near fatal infraction, so one after another was discarded. We were stuck.

I eventually emerged an hour later, to find Sam and Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, talking in low tones. I noticed they were sitting next to each other, not across from themselves. Sarah saw me coming and lit up.

“There you are honey. We were just talking. About what the best move here is...”

“Well, him dropping dead would be a good start,” I replied, muttering.

Sarah first grinned, thinking I was joking and then the smile faded as she realized I wasn’t. She turned to Sam and said, “Sam, you said something about digging out the car before the next snow fall. Would you mind if you got on that? I need some time with my husband...”

Sam glanced at me with a deadpan expression, and then just nodded, got up and put on boots and a bulky parker next to the door, opened the door and walked out.

“Come sit with me Trevor. Please,” said Sarah, patting the seat next to me.

I went and sat, and she instantly engulfed me in her arms.

“It’s going to be alright, honey. Really. It’s all just physical. We are still good.”

I pushed back from her, and looked at her.

“How can you say that? I’m not good. Not even remotely.”

“I know honey. I know. This is all so monumentally unfair to you. I don’t know what else to do though. I mean, we have to survive this.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You just got to his bed and get monumentally fucked. I have to sit here and listen to being cuckolded,” I replied bitterly.

Sarah’s face dissolved into hurt concern.

“I’m sorry. He’s big ... and he’s quite good. I can’t help it.”

“Sarah, do you understand what this is doing to me? To us? This is tearing me apart...”

For once I thought I’d got through to her. She patted my hand. “You wait, honey. We just have to get through the next day, and then we are free. We’ll never see him again. We will go on vacation, somewhere warm, and we’ll have non-stop sex and wash him out of my system. You and me. We’ll make those kids we talked about. I just don’t want to cause you more hurt. I don’t know what to do ... We HAVE to survive this. Think of it like those people in the air crash, in the mountains, who had to eat the dead bodies to survive. It’s like that. Something distasteful we have to overcome.”

“Again, it’s not that distasteful for you is it? You are getting steak – no sausage – while I have to eat the dead. This is wrong Sarah. It just is.”

“I know,” said Sarah, resignedly, “but I don’t see how else we are going to get out of this. I’m not enjoying the pain I’m giving you Trevor, please understand that. It hurts me here to see the agony in you.”

She pulled my hand up to her breast, which was quivering. There were tears in her eyes too.

“Please, my darling. I just have to do this one more time, and we are done. Don’t let this get to you like this. Please. For me. God knows what he’d do if he thought I wasn’t giving it my all, and right now, I just want to kick him in the balls. We have to get through this.”

I just sat there, staring at the floor, sadly.

The door opened after a few minutes and Sam came back in, stamping his feet to dislodge packed snow.

“Cold out there,” he said.

He came in, took off his coat and went over to the fireplace and started mucking out the dead fire, and building up a fresh fire of paper, kindling and some heavier logs.

Sarah and I just sat there and stared at each other.

When he was done, Sam sat back and looked at the fire, and grunted to himself at the job being completed. He then leaned over and grabbed some matches and lit it, blowing on it to get it going.

He then glanced over at us and said, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I fancy a drink.”

Sarah looked at him quizzically, and said, “I thought Trevor ditched all the booze.”

Sam grunted again, as small laugh and then replied, “This house has a cellar, Sai. There’s months of supply down there. All he did,” he said, jerking his thumb at Trevor, “was dump the hard stuff. We have plenty of wine down there. You could bath in it, if you want. Hmmm ... there’s an idea...”

Sarah just made a pfft sound, the one that means “Yeah, right”, but in one sound. I knew it well.

Sam stood up, smiled and said, “I’ll go get us a chardonnay then? I know the perfect thing...”

He bustled off leaving Sarah and me looking at each other.

“Sai?” I said, scornfully. “Pet names for each other already? What do you call him? Wang?”

Sarah seemed to sag in her chair.

“Trev, I can’t stop him wanting to make more out off this than there is. He wants to imagine there is more there than there is with a pet name? Well, good luck to him.”

“Again, though, I’m left sitting here looking like a fifth wheel. And I’m your fucking husband. Not him.”

“I know honey. I know. I think...”

Sam arrived back in the room with two bottles.

“Here we go. A nice little chardonnay from Napa. I think I bought the case in 2004. Should be perfect by now.”

He put the bottles down on the table and then went to a cupboard and brought back three glasses and a bottle opener. As he sat down at the table, Sarah got up and came round to me and grabbed my hand and pulled me up so I was standing.

“Right,” she said, picking up two glasses, handing them to me and then picking up one bottle and the bottle opener.

“We are going to the guest room. I’m going to spend the rest of the day with my husband, “ she said, emphasizing the last two words.

She walked off, then stopped and looked back and me, and said simply, “You coming?”

I followed. I was upset, angry, hurt and everything else, but she was still my wife and any time without the asshole was better time than with him.

He just watched us go, and of course, at the last moment as I was walking through the door to the guest room, he had to spoil it entirely by yelling out, “You be clean Sai. I don’t take sloppy seconds.”

We sat in the room of the rest of the day. Sarah was sore, and she just wasn’t up for full on sex. She said she felt better than she had that morning, but she was still somewhat sore, and it was only going to get worse tonight.

Just hearing that destroyed my desire too. I mean, what man wants to hear his wife say she can’t have sex with him because the man she’ll be with that night is too big and stretches her out? What self-respecting man can deal with that?

Although she did say it wasn’t fair, and then proceeded to give me the blow job of a lifetime. Twice – once when we got into the room and once before we left the room. The second time, she didn’t swallow, but spit my cum into her hand, then rubbed it into her pussy, saying, “He likes to do oral. He can have your sloppy seconds, no matter what he thinks.” She gave me a wicked smile while she did so. It was a small victory, but right then I’d take what I could get.

We emerged late that afternoon, and finally ate. I’d not eaten all day, not having much of an appetite, but even now, with what I knew was coming, my stomach was growling. The wine on an empty stomach wasn’t a great idea either.

We’d spent most of the afternoon just talking. I got the impression that Sarah was very intent on making me understand that I was still The One for her. Her only love. Her need to reassure me was comforting, but neither one of us really confronted the elephant in the room. She didn’t go into details about the night before, and nor did she comment on the impending night. I could tell that she was doing her best to make what happened in the bed room with Sam outside of us. We had our small circle, just the two of us, and he would never be invited in. I was impressed by her dedication to me, but just as heart broken as I was that morning, and I think she could tell. I mean, at the end of the day, how exactly does a wife who has to screw another man that night comfort her husband who doesn’t want her to?

I’d looked out the window more than few times, and true to form, there was more snow. Lots and lots, complete with wind that howled around the house. If anything, more than the day before. We were definitely stuck.

As it was, there was a dinner waiting. It wasn’t that much – microwaved frozen salmon steaks, from Costco, with oven chips, but at least it was something. Sam laughed when we came out of the room and said, “Your feast awaits.”

It stuck in my craw, his good humor. I knew why it was there, and it made me want to get back at him even more.

There was a bottle of red wine that I think was forgettable, but that Sam mentioned was quite expensive. I just shrugged it off – I’m not a red wine drinker and couldn’t tell you the difference between a cabernet or a merlot, and didn’t care if I was drinking his expensive plonk. Sarah was interested though – she was a red wine drinker and when he mentioned the brand, her eyes opened wide. I gather it must have been expensive. Whatever.

We dined almost in silence. Then we sat in the living room, in front of the fire. I noticed there was more firewood – dry. I wondered where that came from, and actually asked – the first thing I’d said to Sam that wasn’t a rant.

He just shrugged and said, “There’s a shed out back with several cords in it. That’s where it comes from. It’s frozen, but it dries out quickly in here.”

Sarah dug out her iPad from her backpack and looking enquiringly at Sam, he gestured to the sideboard, where there was a six-port USB charger. She plugged her iPad in and went back to a book she was reading using the Kindle App. Something about some guy who was an aloof guy, who had fallen in love and then found his wife went back to her first husband, who had dumped her when he discovered he was dying of cancer. Written by some guy name Steel. She said I’d love it and promised to let me read it next.

I just sat there and stared into the flames and drank more and more of his expensive wine. After the third glass it could have been made of acid and I wouldn’t have noticed. Sam did get up and produce another bottle silently when I finished the first. I think he was glad of something that would make me sleep.

At 8pm, Sam yawned mightily, flicked his eyes at me, and then looked meaningfully at Sarah, who rolled her eyes and put down the iPad.

She got up, came over to me and took my face in both hands. She leant down, kissed me hard and said, seriously, “I love only you. Know that and take comfort in it.” Then she looked up at Sam, offered him her hand and said resignedly, “Lets get this over with.”

She didn’t look back, like she didn’t the night before, and the door closed behind them and on my heart.

I just sat there for twenty minutes, then got up, grabbed the bottle and went to the guest room and finished the bottle in less than an hour. I strained to hear, but this time, I couldn’t hear any screams coming from the other room – I heard some wrestling, and I ­think I heard a few contented sighs, but it’s hard to tell. At which point, I put a pillow over my head and did my best to sleep. I sat there, running through a ton of different nasty scenarios involving Sam Fellows, and eventually I must have drifted off around eleven-ish.

I woke to sunlight streaming in the window next morning. I could smell breakfast being cooked as well. Two things I immediately thought – the first was, ‘if the sunlight is coming through, then it’s not snowing and the sun is unobstructed’ and the second was, ‘Man, that bacon smells good.’ And then everything came flooding back.

I staggered out of the bed, - noting for the first time that the sheets were at least eight hundred thread count, - and gathered up my now-starting-to-get-a-little-rank clothes off the floor. I opened the door quietly and walked down the corridor to the kitchen.

What I saw stopped me dead. They were both in the kitchen. Sarah was almost naked, just wearing an apron and panties, no bra, and Sam had a robe on, open, and it was obvious he was naked underneath.

Sarah was standing, trying to fry the bacon at the burners and Sam was indulging in horseplay, slapping her ass and her giggling and swiping back at him to stop him. Then he stepped forward and just put both hands around her chest, grasping her naked boobs and tweaking her nipples. Far from her swatting his hands away, she leaned back into it and sighed as he rubbed and rolled her nipples.

I just looked at them, coughed, and they looked over at me. Sam just gave me a lazy smile and carried on, while Sarah’s eyes went wide in alarm and she instantly pushed back, trying to get Sam’s hands off her.

I just stood there for a second, while they stared at me, then turned and went back to the guest room, locking the door. After a moment of just sitting in the bed, with my head in my hands, I then went into the bathroom, and locked that door too. Then I turned on the shower, and sat there, sobs wracking my body. I just didn’t want anyone to hear. I could hear Sarah trying the guest room door and knocking on it, calling out to me.

I sat there for another twenty minutes, crying my heart out, when the door burst open, and Sam stood there, Sarah behind him, looking worriedly past him.

I stopped crying and got up and pushed past them. I had dressed and just walked out the room, Sarah trying to hug me, crying herself and saying “Please, Trev, please ... I’m so sorry. Please, talk to me.”

I ignored Sarah, walked to the front door, put on my shoes and grabbed the coat I had, put it on and opened it and stepped outside, in to the cold. Sam had obviously been out since there was a path from the front door to our car and also to the shed behind his main building. The rest of the snow stood about three to four feet high, and I just started clambering into it, towards the main road. There was about a three hundred foot path down to the main road, and I just wanted to see if the main road was cleared or not.

I could hear Sarah in the doorway, freezing her ass off – literally – yelling at me to come back. Fuck that.

I got as far as the main road – I could just about tell where it was because of the six-foot poles with the red reflectors on top (which gave me an idea of how much snow could fall around here) embedded in the side of the road. Once I reached the main road, which obviously wasn’t plowed, I started off towards civilization. I had no idea how far it was, and by now my jeans and trainers were soaked through, but staying in that house wasn’t going to happen. I’d reach civilization or die trying.

Well, turned out I’d probably die. I must have got about a mile or so, maybe more, when exhaustion overtook me. The reality is it was really very, very cold, there was wind chill since there was some wind, and clambering through four foot snow drifts is extremely taxing, particularly when you aren’t wearing boots or snow shoes.

I found a small copse with some fur tree’s just off where I assume the main road was, where the snow hadn’t laid very much and sat down, to conserve some energy and warm myself up. I knew the symptoms of hyperthermia – and while I had the shivers and lack of energy, I wasn’t making truly stupid decisions yet. Or maybe I was, but when I’d decided to leave, it was in the warm, so that didn’t count. Perhaps not going back qualified.

Either way, I think I must have passed out, because when I opened my eyes again, there was Sam, standing over me, blocking out the light from the sun, which was peaking out from behind clouds.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snarled at him.

“Your wife sent me. I have to get you back in one piece. Although why she wants some one as monumentally stupid as you in her life I’ll never know. Come on...”

He held out his hand to help me up and I grabbed it and heaved.

He wasn’t expecting it and went over my body, tumbling into the snow next to the tree. Because of the snow, his landing was softer than I would have hoped. Either way, I was up and then he was, and then I hit him, and bounced, and then he hit me and did not. I literally saw stars. I must have gone down because the next thing I really knew, I was being carried by Sam. He couldn’t have got that far – clumping through snow drifts while carrying an unconscious body is a hard task, and he wasn’t in that great a shape.

I came to over his shoulder, and wriggled and shouted “Let me down you ass hole.” I mean, that’s just humiliating all by itself, let alone this was the man my wife had cuckolded me with.

He dropped me unceremoniously, and I groggily got up, feeling a pain in my jaw.

Sam looked at me and said, “We going to have more of that? Because if so, wife be damned, I’ll just leave you here.”

I looked at him through slitted eyes, wishing to god I had taken martial arts lessons as a kid.

Conversationally, he said, “Look, I don’t fucking care. You don’t come back, she’s all mine. I’m more than good with that.”

He looked around at the sky, the laden grey clouds were forming again and the he carried on saying, “I think it’s safe to say there is more snow on the way. You wanna die out here, be my guest. You are too much of a whiny pussy anyway.”

I just shook my head at him and said, “What the fuck? What kind of fucking man are you?’

He snorted and crouched down to look me in the eyes. “You want to know? I know I’m a good man. What I do here, it’s for the greater good. You want to know why I took your wife? Besides the fact that I could, and besides the fact that I haven’t been with a woman since Theresa died besides hookers, and they don’t count – it’s because it was foretold.”

I gaped at him. The man was seriously deranged. His time alone had wiggled a screw loose, obviously.

“Seriously. I can see by your face you don’t believe me. But it’s true. While I was trekking the world, after my wife died, I was in Nepal, looking for something to believe in. I didn’t find that much, frankly. Nepal and all it’s monasteries are full of as many idiot true believers and charlatans preying on them as anywhere else. It’s just got more incense and chanting, to be honest. But, at one place, high up in the alps, I found this one extraordinary holy man. He literally levitated when he had a vision. He’d be a bit garbled, but when he met me, and took my hand in his, he literally raised off the ground by nine or ten inches, and told me that by my fortieth birthday, I would meet a red haired beauty and would share nights of passion with her. There was more, but that’s not important. He told me that I’d eventually raise a child and that my kid would be raised by a good man, who holds all the correct attitudes. That he’d do a bad thing, but it was going to be ok, and the correct thing to do. So there you have it. – that’s what he told me. I’m going to have a kid at some point, and I’m a good man, with the correct priorities. So whatever I end up doing to you, it’s the right thing to do because, you see ... last week was my birthday.”

I stared at him, horrified. This man was seriously out of his mind. He thought that fucking was some kind of religious imperative, and no matter what he did to our marriage, it was both pre-ordained, and also the right thing to do. I had to get Sarah away from him as quick as possible.

I struggled to my feet, now intent on getting back as soon as possible, just to get my wife away from this lunatic. Whatever emotional betrayal I’d witnessed paled into insignificance compared to the damage this nut job could do to both of us. True believers, in my experience, feel anything is justified. This guy could kill Sarah in her sleep if we weren’t careful.

Without saying anything, I turned and hurried towards the house, doing my best to leap from hole in the snow to hole in the snow, retracing my outgoing steps.

We made it back in a couple of hour’s, both tired from our exertions. The door opened when we got close and Sarah’s anxious face peered out.

“Trevor!” she exclaimed. “Come in, now ... get dry, in front of the fire. I have coffee and hot chocolate here ... come in...”

She shooed me in and held the door for Sam. I headed for the fire, but heard her say quietly to Sam as he past her, “Thank you.”

I sat down in front of the fire, taking off my shoes and socks, and she came to me with a blanket, wrapping it around me.

“Here, drink this...” she insisted, pushing a coffee cup at me.

“Sam, can you run a bath in the guest room please? He needs to warm up quickly.”

I glanced up at Sam, who I could see was ready to protest, and say something about how he’d been out in the snow and cold too – his mouth was open, but one look from Sarah, and he just shrugged and went off the guest room. It was a scene we’ve all seen a million times, and yet again, I got a dagger through the heart. That kind of familiarity is only meant for family. Sam was being treated as family, and he definitely was NOT.

She turned back to me and said, passionately, “Trev, I’m so sorry you saw that this morning. It was nothing, just banter.”

I had wanted to warn her about how insane Sam was, but this took me by surprise, and I responded instinctively.

“Him groping your tits was ‘banter’? What kind of ‘banter’ is that? From where I was, it looked like two lovers after a night of hot sex. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it?’

“NO!” she exclaimed, unconvincingly. “Of course not. I guess I can see why you might think that, but no. Look, we did sleep together. He was ... nicer. Gentle, last night. Like you are, when we are together...”

She saw my face when she said that, yet another dart through my chest.

I could see she was both concerned but a little exasperated, “Look Trev, you know what is going on in there. He fucked me hard the first night – there was no love there. But last night he was gentle. He was making love to me. It was nice, I’m not going to lie to you. Not as good as with you, obviously, but still ... what do you expect? I responded and we were just playing this morning when you saw us. It still doesn’t mean anything. Why can’t you understand that? I’ll make it up to you, I promise. You just need to let it go for a little bit. Put your ego aside. I’m literally saving our lives here.”

I think she was lying through her teeth, all that ‘not as good as you’ crap was just that. He had a bigger dick and I’d heard her moaning and screaming that first night. I was sure he’d turned her inside out last night, which is why she was responding this morning, and letting him do whatever he wanted. She wasn’t even thinking of me at all, or she’d never have allowed that in the kitchen. I was getting deathly afraid that she was starting to feel something for this asshole. She just couldn’t see the damage she was doing to our marriage.

“Because I think it does mean something Sarah. The lack of respect for me he has, and now you are starting to exhibit doesn’t mean anything good, that’s for damn sure. You keep saying you are going to make it up to me. How? How are you going to repair the damage done to our marriage? To how I look at you? How you look at me? How Sarah?”

She rocked back on her heels, biting her lip.

“I ... I don’t know right now. Obviously you need a woman for yourself when we get back. It’ll be hard, but obviously there has to be balance here. I can’t expect you to just let this go without some degree of balance being established. I’ll even find someone for you.”

“What, and you’ll stay in our apartment, while I take someone to bed repeatedly? Sleep in the guest room and listen to me make her scream? Deal with me playing with her in the kitchen in the morning? Don’t make me laugh...”

Sarah did frown at that. “We’ll work something out Trev. You know I love you. You know I’ll find something.”

“Thing is Sarah, I don’t know there is anything you can find. Not the way I feel right now.”

She frowned deeper and said, “Have faith Trev. Have faith in me. In us...”

And then Sam was back and he grunted, “Bath is running. Make this asshole a sandwich and one for me?” He gestured at me.

Sarah rounded on him and said, “Do you have to do that Sam? Call him an asshole? It’s not enough you have his wife at nights, you have to be a prick too?”

Sam just grinned back and said, lightly, “Well, what else do you call a moron who tries to walk back to town in four feet of snow in fucking tennis shoes??”

I caught the small smirk from Sarah that she wiped off her face before she turned back. We needed to get the fuck away from this turd as soon as possible.

I got up and went and took the bath, luxuriating in the hot water. I could feel life restoring to me as the heat warmed my bones. However, I wanted to get out and get with Sarah and explain why we needed to get out as soon as possible and take our chances. I rose dripping, and dried off and found my clothes had actually been cleaned! Sam must have a washer drier on the premises. To be honest, it was quite a relief to climb into clean and warm clothes, fresh out of the dryer.

I walked into the living room and there they were, sitting at the table, playing some board game I wasn’t familiar with. I looked at Sam and he gave me a heavily lidded look back. It was smug and I just had a surge of anger.

I looked at the fire, and saw that it was running low on wood. “Shall I get some wood from the shed?” I suggested. I’d offered once before, and interestingly, Sam had shut it down instantly. With any luck, he’d do the same again. And he did. He jumped up and said, “I’ll get it.”

He put on his boots and walked out side and once he was out, I gave him thirty seconds to move away from the door and I sprang into action. I went to the front door and locked it, and then went to what little was left in terms of logs and grabbed a few and jammed them under the front door, so it couldn’t be forced open. Sarah looked at me bewildered and said, haltingly, “what are you doing?”

I ran to the backdoor, down the corridor where the bedrooms were, where there was another door to outside, and did the same to that door, locking it and blocking it with logs. I than ran into the master bedroom – the first time I’d been in it, - to be sure there wasn’t a sliding door to the outside. If there was, I was screwed. But thankfully, there wasn’t. Thankfully, all the windows had bars over them, so he wasn’t going to be getting in that way.

I couldn’t help noticing the tousled bed and the heavy aroma of sex in the room while I was there.

Sarah came in behind me and asked in a questioning voice, “What is going on? What are you doing Trev?”

I turned and grabbed her by the arms and said, urgently, “Look Sarah, this man Sam is dangerous. He’s a fanatic. He believes some utter bullshit about us being here being pre-ordained. He thinks it’s some kind of prophecy. He’s unhinged and deranged. And I’ve locked him out. Hopefully, he’ll die of exposure and we’ll be free to wait out the city crew coming out with snowplows.”

I was grinning manically, pleased that I’d finally found a way out of this mess for us.

Sarah, however, was shocked.

“WHAT? What are you doing Trev? You can’t murder someone like that? What the hell?”

“Look Sarah. That man has blackmailed you into his bed. He’s putting the moves on you and you don’t even see it. He’s some kind of true believer, and we are both in danger here. He believes some wacked out stuff, and we need to be free of him now. This is the best way. He’ll be gone in a couple of hours, and we’ll be able to relax.”

She took a step back, shaking her head and raising her hands in front of her body, palms up. “No Trev, I can’t be a party to this. This is murder. This is NOT who we are. Not who I am. I’m starting to wonder about you...”

“Sarah ... this is what has to happen ... We need to survive this,” I said, desperately.

“No Trev. Whatever else is happening here, we are not murderers ... I will not be made one by you.”

I could hear thumping on the front door. Sam had discovered the front door was barred and was trying to get in. He was obviously not pleased.

I lunged forward and grabbed Sarah by the hands, to hold her in place. Her eyes were wide, and she was obviously alarmed.

“Trev, you are scaring me.”

“Good,” I said, emphatically. “You should be sacred. That man out there is a nut job Sarah. He’ll end up killing us. Or me, most likely. He wants you and he aims to have you and he thinks anything he does is fine – that he has divine justification - and whatever he does is correct thing to do. He actually thinks that what he’s doing is the right thing to do. He totally believes that. Why can’t you see that?”

I was imploring her. Looking back, I must have looked scary. Just out of the bath, hair everywhere, unshaved, manic eyes and shouting a bunch of stuff about impending death. To a certain degree, I guess I can’t blame Sarah that she was scared at that moment. At the time though, I was frustrated and upset, and also not a little bit terrified at what would happen if Sam got back in.

“Trev,” said Sarah, trying to be calm. “If I go and open the front door, what are you going to do to me? Are you going to throw me to there too? You are scaring me honey. Please. We can’t do this. I won’t let you become a murderer.”

The hammering had moved from the front door to the back door and was harder and faster. He was obviously getting more and more annoyed.

I dropped her hands. “If you let him in, you know what he’ll do to me.”

“If I don’t let him in, what would you become Trevor? Not the man I married. I have to save you from yourself. I will handle Sam. I may have to do some things you won’t like, but you’ve put me in that situation now, not me.”

I stepped back from her. I tried one last time, “Sarah, if you love me at all, let him die outside.”

She shook her head and said, “It’s because I love you, I’m not going to let you kill him.”

I sighed, and closed my eyes. Sarah moved away and went to the front door, kicking away the wood logs, and unlocking the door and opening it. Within seconds, the door was full of a very angry Sam.

He made no effort to do anything other than push Sarah out of the way and make a beeline for me, as I stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

Sarah was yelling, “No Sam! Don’t...” and rushing forward as he came forward and punched out at me with a meaty fist. I ducked instinctively and he actually smashed the wall next to the doorframe, fracturing the dry wall. I danced sideways to avoid him, but I wasn’t so lucky with the next punch, that caught me squarely in the stomach. I folded and he jerked me up and punched me in the face. Thankfully I didn’t feel my nose break, but I’m sure I’d have a nice shiner. It certainly hurt enough.

I was aware that he had his fist back to deliver another blow and I braced myself to take it. Sarah, however, had other ideas. She was hanging on the arm making the fist, yelling, “Sam ... stop. Stop for a second. Please. Stop.”

He looked at me, and for once I saw the hate I had sent his way delivered right back to me. Then he looked back at Sarah, and I saw some of the aggression in his body sag a bit.

I have to admit, I sighed with relief too.

She looked intently at Sam, holding his bicep. No one said anything for a second, then Sam just dumped me on the floor, and turned away. The look on his face indicated that this wasn’t over.

Instantly Sarah was on the floor to hold my face and look at me intently. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

I let out a breath, and felt my stomach. The blow delivered there had more winded me than done damage; there was just an ache there now – I had worried that some real damage might have been done with that punch on top off the kick to the ribs I got a couple of nights before, but thankfully, after delicately probing the sore area, that didn’t seem to be the case. I explored my face – I spat out some blood from where I had cut my cheek on my teeth inside. None of my teeth were loose though, which was a plus. I had a wicked bruise coming up on my right cheek though.

“I’ll be ok,” I muttered, trying to lever myself up from the floor and falling over again when I twisted the wrong way and the pain in my gut suddenly flared. Obviously there was muscle damage.

Sarah turned her attention to Sam, eye’s blazing.

“Look Sam. What the fuck do you expect?” Sarah almost never used swear words. It showed the severity of the situation.

“You take his wife to your bed, giving him no choice in the matter. You show him nothing but disrespect. What do you think he’s going to do? Of course he’s going to try and get even. But he didn’t go through with it. I stopped it, and I’m going to stop you too. You are better than that, just like he is better than trying to kill you. So don’t even think about getting even. Or next time we are in bed, I’ll have the hiccups at the wrong moment, and you’ll be less of a man. Do we understand each other?”

At any other time, that statement would have been amusing. Not now though.

Sam stared at her for a moment then nodded, perfunctorily, and turned away. He didn’t look at me at all.

Sarah looked back at me and sighed. She offered a hand and helped me up off the floor.

“Go and take care of your face in the guest bathroom. Find some ice in the fridge and keep a cold compress on it. I’m going to have to go calm Sam down. Or try, at least.” She was pissed at both of us, and I suddenly realized what “calm Sam down” meant. I just sighed and shook my head.

She looked back at me, unimpressed. “You set this situation up. Now I have to deal with it. If I have to do things you don’t like, well, like I said, blame yourself. Come on Sam,” she said, taking his hand and moving into the bedroom.

I stood there for a moment, like a moron, and then went off the guest bedroom. I was well and truly defeated and just wanted to leave at this point. Sarah had made her choice as far as I could see, and it wasn’t me.

I just wanted out.

I spent a bit of time finding ice and a cloth so I could make a cold compress and pressing it against the swelling bruise. They were in the bedroom for at least an hour.

When the door opened, and Sarah came out, I could see she was in some discomfort.

I just looked at her miserably, and her face wasn’t very sympathetic.

“Well, he’s mollified for a bit. I’m sore again and for what? So you can prop up your ego? What the hell is wrong with you Trev? I mean, I know you’ve had to put up with extreme provocation, but killing him? That’s too far out of the comfort zone. I don’t think I like this part of you.”

“Oh YOU don’t like this part of me? And I’m just supposed to be ok with the part of you that goes in there with him and gets fucked am I? That’s all just peachy? Fuck this.”

I turned away, but Sarah grabbed me and pulled me around to face her.

“Of course not,” she said, more softly. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. But still ... murder. Trev...”

“He’s. Fucking. Dangerous,” I enunciated to her as clearly as I could. “He’s a nut job with a religious conviction that whatever he does is ok.”

“I don’t see that,” replied Sarah, crossing her arms.

“Well maybe if you took his cock out of your mouth long enough to think, and stopped orgasming constantly, you’d see it too,” I replied angrily.

The crossed arms got even more crossed, if that was possible. Sarah’s eyes squinted.

“You know, you are being an asshole enough that you almost deserve what he intends.”

“Why, what does he intend?” I asked, genuinely dreading the answer.

“You are to be locked in the guest room tonight, and he wants something you’ve never had from me. Something ... I would never give.”

I rolled my eyes and my head, “Oh for fucks sake. He wants your ass, doesn’t he?”

She just nodded.

“Oh fuck this. This deal is getting worse all the time.”

“Well, you did try and kill him Trevor. I had to say yes, just so he didn’t do to you what you tried to do to him. It’s your own fault.”

“Oh and you just fucking hate the idea, don’t you? Mr. Fucking big dick exciting multiple orgasms gets your ass, something you’ve denied me for years, and it’s all MY fucking fault. You are fucking not that upset at all, are you?”

She tried to stare me down, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. I saw it.

“FUCK YOU.” I shouted. “GO ON, GO TO YOUR FUCKING LOVER. GO GET ASS FUCKED. I don’t even fucking care any more. You are doing a great job of burning the love out of me, Sarah, you know that? Three days and I’m pretty much ready to be done.”

Sarah actually gasped at that. Genuine panic blossomed on her face.

“Oh Honey! Don’t say that. Please. Don’t say that. We can get through this.”

“You keep saying that. But it’s me that has to get through this. You aren’t watching me go through that door to fuck someone else every night. And frankly, I’m getting to the end of my rope with this.”

“Just another day Trev. Another day.”

“And your ass.”

She didn’t reply to that. She just drew her hand along my jaw, being careful of the bruise and leaned in to kiss me.

I leaned back. I had no idea where that mouth had just been, and the expression on her face turned hurt.

“Go give him what he wants,” I said, totally resigned. I wasn’t sure our relationship would recover from this, but I had no cards to play. She’d taken the only one I had out of my hand.

“I promise you, we’ll be ok after this. You never know, I might end up liking it. Then you’ll get as much of it as you can handle!” she said, trying to be jovial. I just stared at her.

She lowered her face, dropped her hand, stepped back and turned and went back into the bedroom.

I went back into the kitchen to get some more ice and when I returned to trudge to the guest room, Sam was standing outside the bedroom, with the door firmly closed.

I hesitated, wondering if he was going to try hitting me again.

He smiled at me, with no humor in it at all.

“Try and kill me would you?” he said, softly.

“The world would be a better place without you in it,” I said, emphatically, returning his gaze and not giving an inch. If he was going to hit me or kill me, he’d have to do it face on. I was almost past caring.

“Well, Sarah has convinced me not to hurt you. Physically, at least. I’ve promised her I won’t hit you or throw you out into the snow. But you were warned. Now you will be punished. I’ll bring the pain to you. Not right now, but it’s coming.”

“Oh what, you going to take her ass?” I said, sneering at him.

“Oh yes,” he replied. “And you’ll get to see it. At a time of my choosing. I’m going to defile your wife’s body and make her beg for it. All from me. She’ll never be the same for you again, and you brought this about. It’s all your own fault.”

“Fuck you,” I replied, not having much else to say.

“No thanks. But she will,” he said back, with that predatory grin that I wanted to smash off his face so badly.

“You like prophecies Sam?” I asked, suddenly tired of the back and forth. “Here’s one for you. One day, the shoe will be on the other foot. And I won’t show any mercy. You really should throw me out into the snow Sam, because I’m going to be coming for you one day. It might not be today, it may not be tomorrow, or the next day. But one day, the bill will come due, and you’ll be paying. You can depend on that.”

For the first time, I saw the smile falter, then get pasted back on again.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he said. “You’ll find out one day, and discover that all your threats are idle. I can buy and sell a hundred of you with ease. You are no threat to me. If you were, you’d already have been one. But you aren’t.”

I walked past him, ignoring him and went into the guest bedroom and closed and locked the door. I did my best to ignore the screaming and moaning coming from the master bedroom, and hearing Sarah shouting, “Do it again. Fuck me harder,” was particularly painful. Especially when I heard it again at 4am and again at 6.

I gave up even trying to sleep at that point, got dressed and walked out into the main area. There was no one there, and the fire was dead. There were just enough logs to start a new fire, but no kindling or paper. I put on my shoes and wandered outside to go get some from the shed in the back. I noticed that for once, it hadn’t snowed any more. The snow that was there hadn’t gone away, but was crystalizing a little, now that the temperature had dropped over night and the top layer hadn’t been replenished.

My feet crunched over the frozen snow as I waked to the shed. The shed door was not locked and I opened it, eyes adjusting from the brilliant white of sunlight reflected off pristine snow to the virtual dark of the shed.

And then I saw why Sam had been the first one to jump up and get firewood.

Inside the shed was a brand new MXZ TNT 850 Skidoo. A snow mobile designed to travel over snow. In all conditions.

That fucker could have sent us on our way at any time. He just didn’t tell us he had this method of transportation. I looked around it and found three cans of what sounded like fuel in them when I shook them. It was totally new, barely used. Of course it was a single seater, which immediately raised another set of issues, but one thing at a time.

I was both beside myself with glee and with anger, at the same time. How dare he do this to us? He got my wife on the threat of us dying, when he had a way to get us back here all along. I guess it’s what I should expect from someone like him, but still, I’d discovered it. We could be out of there today.

I picked up some kindling, some paper and a couple of logs and one of the fuel cans, and went back to the main house, where still no one had stirred. I mucked out and made up the fire – one task I was up to, thanks to the Cub Scouts.

Then I poured gasoline over it, and left the can sitting there, while I sat back in the comfy chair and waited for the whore and the human skid mark to get up. It’s funny, now I look back, that was the first time I used those names for them. I don’t even know where they came from, just there they were.

Eventually, the door opened and Sarah came out, in the middle of some conversation with Sam. She walked out saying, “I don’t think that’s quite right Sam, I think...” and then she saw me, and she just stopped, as though unsure what to say. I just stared at her, unblinking an unwavering.

Sam came out behind her, carrying on the conversation till he too saw me.

I could see his gaze dart from me, to the fireplace, and then the can. His eyes widened slightly at that, the implication not lost on him.

“Good morning Sarah. Sam. Good fuck fest I assume? I’m sure your dick needs to be washed off now her shit is all over it. Or did she clean it off with her mouth?”

I was being deliberately inflammatory, but at this point my patience was exhausted and I wasn’t interested in being anything less than direct.

“Trevor!” exclaimed Sarah. “That’s enough!”

“You know, wife of mine, I think I’ll decide when it’s enough. And yes, you are right, it IS enough. Sam,” I said, directing this part of my delivery to him. “Any thoughts on when you were going to tell either Sarah or me that there is a fully functional Skidoo out there in the shed? That one of us could have gotten back to civilization days ago and got a snow plough crew out here to dig us out? When was that going to happen, you fucking dick weed? Or was my wife’s wet pussy just too good to resist?”

Sarah turned towards Sam, looking bewildered. “Sam... ?” she enquired, hesitantly.

He looked away, then looked back. There was defiance in his voice, but also some guilt. “Yes, it’s there. Yes, I didn’t tell you because I wanted her. You know why. You know about why.”

There was silence. I was waiting for Sarah’s response, because that was the crucial one.

“So, let me get this straight, Sam, just so I totally understand,” she said, her voice strained. “You had a way to get us out of here, but instead you lied, and took what wasn’t yours, almost destroyed a marriage, took my anal virginity, even though I didn’t want to give it, and almost made my husband a murderer? Am I clear on all that?”

Her voice was low and hissed, dripping with menace. I was satisfied. I may not look at her the same way any more, but she still had a moral center, which was something.

Sam looked away and then looked back, pleadingly at her. “I did it for you. I need you right now. You know that. You said that yourself last night. You may have the rest of your life with him. I have a few days. I needed what you do for me. It’s a bit underhand, sure, but it was the only way. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“Well, I think we can all see what kind of moral character you are Sam,” I said, scathingly. “Don’t apologize for almost destroying someone else’s marriage. That’s about par for the course for you, isn’t it? I don’t get it. If you need a woman so much, why not go out and get one? There are plenty out there? Why my wife? Why try and destroy my marriage?”

“I told you why. It was foretold. My birthday, the red haired woman. Here she is...” he gestured at Sarah.

Sarah, to give her her due, wasn’t having any of it. She stepped back from Sam and glanced over at me and said, “Trev, can you ride that thing?”

“I dunno,” I answered. “I’ve never tried before. I can ride a motorbike, but not one of those things. Can’t be that hard though... ?”

Sam smirked. “Well, I’m not going to ride it. I’m fine right here. I won’t go.”

“So that leaves either your or me,” I said to Sarah. “Frankly, I’d prefer you go.”

Sarah was still staring at Sam, but glanced back at me. “I can’t ride that thing. I’d fall over or run into a tree. I can barely handle a bicycle, you now that. And I can barely sit down after ... last night” She tried to say the last bit delicately, but I was too fired up to really take issue with it right then. That would come later.

“Right, but I’m really not ok with leaving you here.”

“Trevor,” exclaimed Sarah, sharply, “Man up. You could be there and back with a snow moving crew today if you hustled. I’m not about to have more sex with Mr. Deceitful here, trust me on that. Go. Now. Get to the city as fast as possible and get back here.”

With that, I put my now very battered trainers back on, put on my coat, and then put on Sam’s coat over the top of it, smirking at him while I did it. “You don’t mind, do you Sam?” He just glared at me. I took his bundle of keys to work out which one started the snow mobile.

I walked out to the Skidoo and studied the controls, and within a minute I had it turning over. It wasn’t hard. Insert key, open the choke, turn the key till the engine turns over and then slowly reduce the choke. Just like in the old manual gearbox cars I learned to drive, oh so long ago in Barnsley. On a rack beside the snow mobile, I found a wool lined hat, with leather outside, some heavy gauntlets and a set of tinted goggles, which I appropriated.

I stopped the engine, and removed the Skidoo key from the chain, then restarted it and left it for a few moments to turn over and warm up. According to the dials, there was almost a full tank of gas in it.

I searched the machine for a handbrake but couldn’t find one, so I tentatively gave it some gas and it started moving out towards the track around the house. Navigating the machine around our car was tricky but I was getting the hang of it by the time I stopped by the front door.

Sarah was standing there, with her coat wrapped around her, shivering. I handed her the rest of the keys and just looked at her. I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss her or not, given what she’d spent the evening doing, and it looked like she didn’t either. It was an awkward moment, one that she ended by just hugging me and whispering, “Come back to me and get me home. Good luck. I love you. Be safe,” and then just turning and going back inside. Sam was standing in the door way, with a neutral expression on his face. He pushed off the door frame and lumbered up to me, and reached out and put something in my pocket.

“For later,” he said, and then, without any more words, turned and went inside and closed the door. I couldn’t look at what he’d put in my pocket with the gauntlets on, and right then, I didn’t care anyway. Whatever it was could wait.

I started at the shut door for a moment, then pulled the hat on and adjusted the goggles and turned my attention to the snow mobile.

I was surprised at how easy the Skidoo was to handle to be honest. It was like a big motorcycle, if you took away inertia. When you take your hand off the throttle, the thing slows down almost instantly – if you glide at all it’s because the snow mobile is sliding on ice. It was powerful, and I ended up making good time. The issue wasn’t the snow mobile, but in the snow.

The thing is, when you moving at any speed, the skidoo would roll over the top of packed snow just fine. It would sink of course, because the skidoo weighed so much, and with me on top, well ... but it didn’t sink that much and it skimmed over the top of the snow just fine, while moving. It didn’t plow the snow, just left a decent path behind it, just left a trail that said, “Someone was here.” The issue was more when I slowed down to look at where I was going and make judgments about what might be under the snow. When I slowed down to make an assessment of the surroundings – which I had to do a fair bit, because this was all pristine snow and I had no idea of what the local geography was. I was navigating via the rods at the side of the road and they were hard to see some of the time, even with the little reflectors on their tops – the skidoo would start to sink and a couple of times I had to dig it out. The first time I almost despaired, until I noticed the folded up spade bungee corded on the back of the snow mobile. Sam was nothing if not prepared and I had a small wry smile at the idea of being grateful to Sam for anything.

Eventually, after about three hours of stop and start, I found the part of route 97 just outside of Fort Nelson which had actually been plowed. When I dropped down from the packed snow onto that, I actually whooped. Three hours, and I was so close to getting a crew out to help dig us out. And then the problems started.

The first thing to go wrong was that I misjudged part of the plowed snow. The fact is, a plow does two things – it peels off snow and throws it off the side of the road – but it also compresses the snow underneath. It was obvious that this road had been plowed somewhat recently, but equally it had frozen the night before. So now there was a thin layer of compressed and slick snow over the top of deeper patches of ice.

The Skidoo was designed to cope with this of course – a serrated rubber track, with metal studs in it and so on. But that can only cope so far, and if you are going to fast, with not enough control, as I was, in my enthusiasm to get to town and get things organized, well...

Needless to say at one point, I ended up doing a 360 slide around, bashing the back of the skidoo into something hidden under the snow at the edge, that must have been rock or something. Either way, it smashed in the back corner of the track, buckling it and jamming it up. I revved the engine a couple of times, but it had disengaged from the track automatically, to stop the engine locking up. I hopped off – realizing how tired my thighs were from holding on for sheer life for so long – took a look at the damage and realized instantly there was no fixing that on the side of the road where I was.

I looked down the road towards the lights of the city, judging it to be less than half a mile, and I started to walk. I wasn’t that cut up about damaging the skidoo. Sam could cover it – I could care less about his property, since he spent way too much time minding mine.

By the time I got there, it was mid afternoon. I was tired, sweaty – walking with heavy layers will raise your internal temperature no matter what – hungry and thirsty. But I made a beeline for the Royal Mounted Police station on Airport road. There were things to do.

And that’s where the second obstacle happened. While the Mounties listened politely to my tale, at the end of it, it was clear they were humoring me. I must have been a sight – wide eyed, hair everywhere, tired, face blown with snow and sunburnt – telling this wild story about some guy who had blackmailed us into providing my wife for sexual favors, and how I had to get back out there, and needed help.

The guy behind the desk, Sargent Sewell, eventually let me run down and then said, politely, “So, to be clear sir, at no point were you forcibly restrained? I mean, you were free to leave at any time?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Although there was no where to go except certain death.”

“Well, sir, as far as I’m aware, there is now law that requires some one to offer aid in that kind of situation. The fact that he did is to be applauded, although, if it was contingent on your wife’s...” Sargent Sewell coughed, “ ... honor, well, that’s repugnant, obviously. But not illegal as far as I’m aware. I’m not sure what we can do about this situation sir. My heart goes out to you; you’ve obviously been cruelly used by, well both of them, it sounds like. But I can’t see anything illegal going on here. I don’t know how I can help you... ?”

I was exasperated. Surely the scumbag had transposed some law? Something? Anything?

“He assaulted me,” I said, leaving out the part that I’d locked him out to die.

“And you can prove this?” asked the desk Sargent, obviously getting tired of this conversation.

I thought about it. Obviously Sam wouldn’t admit it, and I wasn’t sure what Sarah would say. Before three days ago I would have bet my life she’d back me no matter what, but now ... Plus it might open conversations about attempted murder and I didn’t need that.

“No,” I said, wearily.

There was another officer who’d stopped behind the desk Sargent and had been listening, and he suddenly chimed in with, “Wait, did you say far up on 97? Towards the commercial air field? Small white house?”

“Yes,” I replied, looking at him, “Sam Fellows is the guy there.”

“He’s talking about Creosote. I’ll bet you,” said the other office to Sargent Sewell.

“Creosote?” I asked, looking back to Sargent Sewell.

“Rich guy. Has a small place out there. Comes and goes. He doesn’t live around here; I think he lives somewhere south in the States. Atlanta or something. He’s some big cheese in the business world as I understand it. Some multi-billionaire or something. He comes out here on occasion. Stashes his private jet at the aerodrome on 97 that you were going to.”

That explained a lot. Sam obviously had money, and now I thought of it, it was probably his private jet Sarah and I had been looking at, at the airfield, while waiting for the company parts jet to arrive.

“We call him Creosote because he’s as rich as that, apparently. He comes into town once in a great while and buys everything in sight. Seemed like an OK guy, but I guess you never can tell from what you’ve had to say.”

I stood there for a second, trying to decide what to do next.

“Do you guys know who runs the city clean up crews? I need to persuade them to plow out that far, so I can get out there and get the wife out of there. If you won’t help, it’s the least I can do.”

Sargent Sewell regarded me over the desk, aware of what I was saying. I could tell his basic decency was battling with my aggressive tone. In the end, he sighed, got up, and ambled over to a table fairly close, with a bunch of walkie talkies on it. He picked one up and said into it, “RCMP station to shift leader Drummond. Bruce, you out there, buddy?”

He listened for a moment, and was about to repeat his request when the radio rustled into life.

“This is Bruce, hey Doug. What’s up?”

“What’s your twenty Bruce?”

“I’m about a mile down the road. Here with a crew dealing with a downed telegraph pole. What do you need?”

“Any chance you might be able to zip down here? Got a guy here who needs to have a quick chat.”

“Sure Doug. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Ten four. RCMP station out.”

Doug Sewell put the walkie talkie back in the charger pack and turned to me. “Good enough?”

“Yes, thanks, “ I said, ashamed of the way I’d spoken to him. “Sorry, look, I’m under a lot of pressure here. I just need to get my wife to safety.”

“Well, Bruce Drummond is your guy. He runs the city crews for cleaning up stuff like snow and so on. You want some coffee while you wait?”

I nodded. It was a good idea. My stomach was growling.

Sargent Sewell nodded at the other officer, who bustled off. Two minutes later he came back with some of the best coffee I’ve ever had at a public facility. Although it might also have something to do with the fact that I’d not eaten a damn thing that day and was both hungry and thirsty. I sat on the bench by the door, savoring the steaming hot and tasty coffee.

Almost twenty minutes on the dot, a balding man, straight out of central casting for ‘harassed blue collar shift leader’ strode in, walking directly to the main desk where Sargent Sewell was filling in some documents.

“Hey Doug. What’s up?”

Sargent Sewell just nodded at me, and I stood up and reached out a hand. “Hey. Trevor Stevenson. Wondering if I might ask a favor?”

Bruce Drummond looked me up and down and then took my hand.

“Bruce Drummond. What can I do for you?”

“Route 97. I need a plow crew out there. My wife is marooned out there near the airfield. We’ve been stuck out there for three days. I got in via Skidoo today, but it’s a one-person thing, and besides, it’s now inoperable. How soon can you get a crew out there?”

Bruce was taken aback, and he glanced back at Doug Sewell, who said, “She’s in a house out there. Her husband, him,” he said nodding at me, “wants to get her out because apparently Creosote is defiling her. He made her cooperation part of his requirements to give them succor.”

Bruce sucked his teeth, and then swung around to me, “Well, I feel for you Mr. Stevenson. I do. But the earliest we’ll have a crew out there is three days from now, and that’s assuming everything goes according to plan and we don’t have another dump of the white shit. I have four snowplows in Fort Nelson. One is currently plowing some of the residential streets, one is on standby at the airport, because without that, we are entirely cut off and the other two are trying to get through to all the small settlements between here and St. John. We go west once we’ve broken through there. There are just way more people south and east of us than there are north. If you wife has shelter, then she’s a lower priority than those we haven’t heard from. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

“No, you don’t understand. That man is a sexual predator. I have to get back there.”

“Well, the best I can suggest is the you find a private citizen with a truck with a plowing attachment. Although most of them are already plowing relative’s houses and most also won’t have equipment big enough to plow the 97 effectively, to be blunt. I’m sorry, that’s all I can offer you. Doug, I’ll see you. I have to run back to the pole. The strip mall with the post office in has lost power and we need to get that back up. I gotta go. Duty calls.”

And with that, he was gone.

I glanced in frustration at Doug Sewell, who shrugged apologetically, but then returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

I had been dismissed, no question.

I loitered for a moment, brain churning. Could I hire someone to clear the path? Where? How much?

In the end I left for the hotel where we’d been staying. Getting into some new clothes and getting something to eat was a priority. It occurred to me, as I struggled out of the over coat I was wearing, to see what Sam had put in the pocket. It turned out to be a USB memory stick. I wondered what was on it, so I pulled out my laptop, turned it on and stuck the USB stick in the side.

There was only one file. It was a video file, an.mp4, and it was just titled with today’s date.

I opened it, and watched about a minute of it, fast forwarding, and then stopping it, and quickly visiting the bathroom where the coffee I’d drunk came up again.

Predictably, it was a video shot in Sam’s bedroom, of him and Sarah. It was just not something I wanted to see. It was of them, having sex, and him taking her ass, and her getting quite into it. It wasn’t even the sex that was the hardest thing on the soul. – it was all the dialog. Her screaming, “Oh god, fuck me,” and her getting into the anal sex thing, even though you could see the apprehension on her face before he lubed her up, and slowly inched his large dick in her.

I watched her face change from pain and anxiousness to pure abandon, and the last parts of my heart broke anew.

There’s no pain like a broken heart, but I couldn’t just let it go. I had to get back to her. It made it even more imperative that I get back and free her, just so there wouldn’t be any more of that in her life. Or, if there was, it was ME doing it. The man she made vows with.

I came out, after a hot shower, feeling infinitely cleaner from the shower, but also needing sustenance. I was worried about Sarah and just wanted to get out there to where she was.

There was a bar and grill across from the el crapo hotel we were staying in and that’s where I went.

I got a window seat and ordered ribs. While I had them and a beer, I noticed a pickup truck with plow on the front pull into the lot. Suddenly very interested, I dropped some bills on the table to cover the bill and tracked the owner of the truck into the bar.

He went over to the bar and I followed. While he ordered a beer, and sidled up next to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, mind if I ask you something...”

He looked at me – slightly unshaven, young, dirty blue baseball cap, blue eyes – definitely young blue collar.

“Sure,” he said.

“That your truck out there, with the plow?” I jerked my thumb over to the parking lot.

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“How much to hire you?”

“How much you got?”

“A couple of hundred?”

“I’m interested. What do you have in mind?”

“Route 97.”

The guy just sniffed. “You’d need a hell of a lot more than two hundred bucks for that dude. Besides, I’m not allowed to plow territorial highways. And 97 is. That’s illegal, only townships can do that. Plus, it would take all night and more. Good luck with that.”

He turned back to the bar and I stood there. I had to decide what to do and quickly. I made a decision, nudged him and gave him a fake smile when he glanced back and me and said, “Yeah, you are probably right. Want a beer while I am here?”

“Sure, man,” said the guy, obviously more interested now that free beer had been mentioned.

I motioned to the bar keep, pointed at the Molson beer tap, and held up two fingers. He nodded pouring them out. As he put them down, I put down a ten-dollar bill, and accidentally knocked one of the beers over, onto the guy with the hat next to me.

“Oh Jeesus. Sorry!” I exclaimed, as the beer poured over his jacket and jeans. “Let me get that...” I said, grabbing napkins and dabbing at him.

He stepped back and put up his hands, “Dude, it’s fine. It’s ok. Don’t fuss. I’ll just hit the bathroom. Get me another beer...”

He turned and walked off and I put my untouched beer in front of his stool, and then went off to the parking lot, the keys I’d just lifted from his jacket pocket in my hands.

I was in that pickup and driving away as fast as was humanly possible. I was pleased to see almost a full tank of gas, and figured out the controls to drop the plow in seconds.

I felt really bad at stealing the truck, but all is fair in love and war, and this was both. This was collateral damage. I’d make it up to him later – I had a smile with no humor in it at that. Now I sounded like Sarah.

I drove out of town, towards 97, and then ran into the last obstacle of the day. The worst one – as I rounded a corner I ran into two cop cars, stretched across the road, lights going and deputies standing in front of them.

Obviously they were there for me. I internally debated making a run for it, and trying from another angle, but realized as fast there was no other angle. This was the only way to get up 97, and short of plowing through two cop cars – and the cops themselves – I was screwed. I pulled up, and just sat back, waiting for the deputies to come get me.

I was taken back to the same police station I had been in that afternoon, and then booked by, you guessed it, Sargent Sewell.

“You just can’t stay out of here, can you, eh?” he said, as he took my fingerprints.

He shook his head and said, “Well, I know why you did it, but you had to know you’d be caught?”

“Of course,” I replied, “But I figured I could get her out of that assholes clutches first. I’d pay the price willingly to get her out.”

“pfft”, said Sewell, almost smiling. “You might even have achieved that indeed, if you hadn’t stolen Bruce Drummonds son’s truck. The one kid with a direct line in here. Once we heard your description and the fact that a pickup with a plow had been stolen, it wasn’t hard to work out where you’d go.”

“Now what?” I asked, totally resigned. I’d failed every step along the way, and now Sarah was stuck with that asshole for at least another day.

“Well, it’s Thursday. Unfortunately for you, the judge is out of town, and he’s likely to stay out of town till we can get the south 97 route open. As soon as we do, you’ll be arraigned, and probably released on bail – it’s not like you are a flight risk – where are you going to go? And we know the why of what you did – it was to a purpose, not for malicious purposes, so likely a fine then, perhaps a suspended sentence. I dunno, I’m not the judge.”

“When is 97 likely to be open?”

“Hard to tell. It’s going to be a couple of days at the very least. Possibly more.”

“So I’m just going to rot here, while we wait?”

“You get three squares a day, you won’t freeze and if you are lucky, I’ll come and play chess with you.”

That was it. The final nail in the coffin. Sarah was going to be alone with that asshole for days, not having a clue what happened to me. At that moment, my life was at it’s lowest.

I sat in the small cell they put me in, and just started crying. My cell mate, a large man with a big red nose who smelt of whisky, just sat there, staring at me.

I cried for my wife. I cried for my marriage. I cried for myself. I cried for what I imagined was happening in that house, in the snow, with the two of them alone. I tortured myself with images of the future, and I sat in blackness for three days, alone and miserable.

Sewell came to try and engage me with chess, as he’d promised, but I was in no mood to play. I sat staring at the wall, a movie running in my head. I ate when they brought food, but other wise said nothing. I just sat and waited. For what, I couldn’t have told you.

I was ripe by the start of the third day, having had no shower. It was a small facility, and while I got fresh jump suits, I must have smelt quite bad by then. I remember waking up late in the day on the uncomfortable bunk – there was no real reason to wake up early, the jail was very quiet, surprisingly -, when my name was called out by the jailer. I looked up and saw he was standing by the cell door, gesturing to me.

I got up and went to the door, where he said, “Lucky day for you. You’ve been bailed.”

“But I’ve not seen the judge yet?” I said, confused.

“Apparently you have friends on high places. Charges have been dropped. Even Bruce Drummonds son have dropped his charges and the DA understands your situation. I think your favors here are all used up though, to be honest, but right now, you are out of here, my friend.”

He led me out, and took me to the locker room, so I could change back into my own clothes. I was processed out, given forms to sign and to get my things back, and then I was led out into the waiting room, where Sarah was waiting, sitting on the bench along the wall, where I’d sat three days earlier.

I should have known. “Friends in high places” indeed. Sam Fellows long hand stretched even this far.

“Trevor!” exclaimed Sarah brightly, standing up abruptly.

I just looked at her, too tired to even say anything. So many thoughts went through my mind over that three days, that actually seeing her, I had nothing to actually say. I was tired – so emotionally tired, I was just numb.

Concern gleamed in Sarah’s eyes. She was wearing something different from what I’d last seen her in, so she’d been back to the hotel too.

“Are you ok? Did they hurt you? Talk to me Trevor. I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m ok,” I mumbled. I just stood there and swayed.

Immediately Sarah put her arms around me to hug me. I didn’t follow suit. I was so empty inside at this point. She was standing right there, but I felt totally alone.

She broke the hug and held both arms by the biceps, searching my face for whatever it was she was looking for, and not finding it.

“I need to get you home. You need a shower, and something to eat. Come on...”

She bustled me out of the police station and outside, it was bright; I had to shield my eyes. I noticed that a lot of the snow was now grey, and there was less of it. Obviously the big snow was over.

She hailed a taxi, and while we sat in that, on the way to the hotel, she burbled about the events of the past three days.

“We knew something had happened to you when you didn’t come back. We waited. Each day I’d go down to the road to see if it was plowed yet. Sam got quite antsy, not being able to communicate with anyone. This morning we got woken by the plows coming up 97. They even came down and plowed the driveway, to our car. They knocked on the door to see if we were all ok. It was really nice of them to be concerned. The guy there mentioned that someone had stolen a plow to try and get up route 97 and been arrested for it, and right then I knew it was you. I insisted to Sam we left to find you immediately. When we got here, I went to the hotel and then came straight to get you out. Sam even made some calls to help smooth it out. You were only in there because of his behavior anyway, it was the least he could do.”

“We?” I said, numbly. “Is the ass stain here with you?”

“Trev ... no. He’s gone back to the house. Look, we have to talk. When we get back to the hotel, we need to sit down. Things have ... changed. Got more complicated.”

I just turned and looked out the window. I had nothing to say. I was ready for that shoe to drop – it was inevitable now.

“Trevor ... please. This is hard for me.” She kept trying to engage me, with various entreaties.

I ignored her and just stared at the passing scenery, seeing none of it. I was just not there at all.

We got the hotel and wordlessly we got out of the car and walked up to the room. When we got inside, I couldn’t help but notice that her two suitcases were already packed. I stopped dead on seeing them, and then silently just sat on the bed, looking at her.

Sarah crouched down in front of me and took both my hands in hers, looking deeply into my eyes.

“I was there for three days, alone Trev. Sam was ... sweet to me. He feels very guilty about how he treated you.”

“Like fuck he does,” I interrupted. Sarah sighed.

“He does Trev. Trust me on this. Look, things have come out. He explained to me why he did what he did, why he wanted me. There’s a story, a prophecy, about him meeting us. Meeting me. It’s quite scary what was predicted.”

“He gave me that cock and bull story Sarah,” I interrupted again. “Can’t you see it’s just desperate justification for taking someone else’s wife? ‘What was predicted???’ What a load of crap.”

“The thing is Trev, he knows things about me. Things no one knows. A couple not even you know Trev. There’s no way he could have known we would show up at his door. He’s had no chance to do any research; we’ve been entirely out of touch of the world. How does he know these things? The days we’ve spent together ... he’s been good to me. Nice. Kind. Open. I can feel him opening up. You know how empathetic I am – he needs me.”

“Yeah, I’ve no doubt he’s ‘been looking after you’,” I said, bitterly.

She dropped my hands and grabbed me instead. “No, we didn’t spend the three days in bed Trev. Please, believe me. We spent most of it talking. I learned about him. He’s rich you know. Richer than Creosote.”

I laughed humorlessly. She looked at me enquiringly. “That’s what the guys at the police department call him. Creosote.”

“Oh. He’ll laugh at that.”

“Fucking great. So you didn’t fuck those three days?”

She flinched, and then answered, “What do you think Trev? What do you want me to say here? You want me to hurt you, is that what you want? Yes, we fucked a couple of times. And we made love a few times too. I’m sorry. It was the price of me being there and alive. And honestly, he was good. Yes, I enjoyed it. I’m sorry for that. It’s not like he got any more of me than you have.”

“Apart from your ass.”

She flinched again. Her eyes flicked away, then back to me. Something changed in her eyes when she looked back at me. There was a hardness there. Before, it had all been concern.

“That was your own fault. He’s never been back there again and I won’t let him even if he wants to.”

“And the cuckold husband gets nothing at all. He needs you, but apparently I don’t. The husband of years needs are less than that of the man you met six days ago. He blackmailed you into his bed. Do you hear yourself?” This was all said in a resigned and beaten tone. I knew where this was going.

There was silence to that. Then she said, quietly, “Look. I have to go for a while. It’s all gotten complicated. I don’t ... I’m not in love with him. I love you. That has and will never change. But I need to know more about this prophecy. I need to see this holy man in Nepal and see what he has to say for myself.”

“So you are just leaving with shit stain then? That’s it? I told you this was would be the end of us Sarah. I told you. But oh no, you were so right, weren’t you? How are you going to make this right Sarah? Do tell me, because I’m really interested to know.”

Sarah dropped her arms and sat back on her butt.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know anything any more. I know I love you. I don’t know what to think about this thing with Sam. I think I could love him, over time. I’m being totally honest here Trevor, I hope you understand that. What it’s costing me to be totally true with you, you’ll never know.”

“What it’s costing me for you to be true with me you’ll never know either, Sarah,” I mumbled. “So, you are just going to get on Shit stains private jet with him and go globe trotting, looking for Mr. Miyagi, then? I’m sure you can join the mile high club with no one knocking at the door.”

She tilted her head, “That’s not fair Trev. Sam is not coming on this trip – it’s just me. Yes, I’m using his jet, but if he’s going to offer it to me, then why not? I have my passport”, she pulled it out of her pocket, “so I can go. I need to do this.”

“Not fair?” I snorted. “Not. Fucking. Fair? You dare to speak to me about fair?” I spat.

Sarah sighed. “Yeah, I know. It hurts. I’m so sorry to put you through this Trevor. I do love you, but I need to resolve this. I need to know what my destiny is.”

“I thought your destiny was to have children with me. You seemed sure of that a week ago.”

“I know. I thought so too, but this is ... there’s something else going on here Trev. I need space from both of you to figure it out. I’ll be back. Get the job done here, and I’ll find you in Maryland, at the apartment, ok? I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks.”

She stooped down and ran her hand over my cheek, as she’d done so many times before, and then kissed me softly on the mouth. I didn’t kiss her back.

“I have to go. The plane is waiting. I love you Trev. Never doubt that.”

And just like that, she was gone, without looking back.

There didn’t seem anything else to do but do as she said, get the job done. I’d been out for almost a week, because of everything that had happened, and when I checked in with Bardel’s head office, they almost bit my head off. Apparently they were waiting one more day to report me missing. They’d tried talking to the hotel but I’d not been seen there – the maid had said the bed hadn’t been slept in in almost a week, and they were beside themselves.

When the secretary I was talking to calmed down enough, I explained how we’d been caught in the snow, and had to wait to be dug out. I did enlarge the period we were stuck there – I didn’t enlarge on my jail adventure; they didn’t need to know that.

I did explain I’d be back on station and we needed to arrange those parts being delivered, now the snow had receded and we had a clear road to get them to the rigs.

Basically, life went on. I was alone, and I resisted all temptation to text Sarah. She didn’t text me either, so tit for tat I suppose.

I did my research on Sam Fellows though. It pays to know your enemy. As it turned out, it wasn’t hard. While he stayed out of the limelight, a lot was known about him. He ran one corporation and was the chairman of the board of three others, all companies he’d started and then moved on from.

Basically, he was a corporate raider of the worst sort. He preyed on companies that showed financial weakness, doing hostile takeovers, then breaking the companies up into their component business units and selling them off to others who needed that particular expertise or client base.

He was worth just south of a billion dollars, it seemed, at least on paper. He had a private jet, houses dotted all over the word, owned two hotels and three resorts, one in Jamaica, one in South Africa and one in Spain. His life history was replete with the story of him losing his wife – apparently the house that we’d found refuge at was the original house where he’d spent his honeymoon with her, which is why he still had such a small place. There used to be a bunch of small motel bungalows there, and he’d bought the entire lot, bulldozed the rest and enlarged the one place where they’d actually stayed, and made it his get away.

Much had been made out of his year out from industry, where he’d decided to ‘walk the earth’. He’d done some good – built a hospital and school in Somalia, set up scholarships in Mongolia, but along the way he’d also bought and destroyed three banks, an electric company and more medium sized family owned businesses than you can shake a stick at. He might be ‘walking the earth’, but he wasn’t there to help the little guy when he got there. More often than not, him showing up meant some local business was going down the pan and he was going to be a bit richer.

I still couldn’t really understand why he went after Sarah with such a vengeance. I mean, I get that she’s hot, and we were at his mercy, but this prophecy thing? Why bother? He already got what he wanted. Why did Sarah feel the need to go to Nepal? What did she expect to find there? The Golden Child?

I did see that he and his wife were childless. That had to suck. Was that it? He wanted breeding grounds?

It all sucked and I didn’t really know what to do about it.

After two weeks, the job in Canada was done – all the equipment was disassembled, the holes left plugged correctly, with the right amount of pressure cap in place - and I left Fort Nelson without a backward glance, like Sarah did me.

Emotionally, I was drained. The whole three days at the house, the three days in the jail where I effectively shut down, then Sarah just upping and leaving – I was numb. I was so so angry at Sam Fellows, but Sarah ... I just didn’t know what to think. When I did feel, I flopped from frustration, rage, emptiness and depression. On reflection, I think feeling numb was the best thing. I’d have gone insane otherwise. Perhaps that’s what it was; an internal self defense mechanism to retain my sanity.

I worked, I looked up Sam Fellows and I did everything I could not to wonder what Sarah was doing, or with whom.

After the second week had passed, and I was back in Maryland, and at that point, I had had enough. I texted her, “If you aren’t home by next week, don’t bother.” I had had enough of the disrespect from my wife. No more.

I got no reply but, on the 20th day of her leaving, she showed up. Well, I got a text from her, while I was at work. It just read “Koba coffee shop. 3:30. Love you.”

Well, that basically did for my day. I mean, your wife is gone for almost three weeks, prior to that she’s spent six days in the bed of a man who obviously wants her and has consumed her sexually. He’s a rich man, with resources and private planes and all the rest. She said she was going to Nepal, but that doesn’t take three weeks. When you do hear from her, she wants to meet in a public place, not at the apartment you share.

What conclusion would you draw?

Three o’clock rolled around and I just walked out of work. I didn’t say anything to anyone, I just packed up my desk and walked out. The receptionist saw me go, but she didn’t say anything; I’d been more than on edge since I got back and everyone could see that things weren’t right, but I just didn’t know anyone at work well enough for anyone to actually ask about my personal life.

Sarah had stopped working at Bardels a bit after we were married – she had said that being in the same building would be a ‘distraction’, and she’d have been right. She took a job with a builders contractors across town. I had called them to see if she’d spoken to them, an apparently she’d taken a leave of absence from them – for a full month I was told. I got the impression they weren’t pleased. Once I realized that, I did indicate I wasn’t wildly thrilled either.

So at three twenty five precisely I walked into Koba Coffee, on the peninsula of Baltimore. It was an expensive neighborhood; god knows what their rent must be. Although knowing my luck, Skid Mark probably owned it.

Sarah was already there, sitting at a table, sipping her coffee delicately. She looked ravishing – red hair obviously recently been cut and style. Red necklace, a white jacket with white simple blouse underneath. Make up immaculate – a very different style for her, deep red lipstick, some blusher against a severe white based foundation. None of what she was wearing had I seen before. That mean the skid mark had been funding her. Either way, she’d been shopping.

She saw me coming and rose. I didn’t see the expression of delight I had been hoping for. Just a serious expression. No hug. She didn’t even come round from her side of the table.

“Hi Trev. You look good.”

“No I don’t,” I replied. “I look like an abandoned husband.”

“Um. I’m sorry. I really am. There were things to work out. It took longer than I thought...”

“I’ll bet there were,” I replied bitterly, dropping into the chair on the other side of the table like a bag of potatoes.

“You wouldn’t even be here at all if I hadn’t pushed the issue, would you Sarah?” I said, wearily. I just wanted her to get to the point. Lower that boom.

“That’s not true. I knew I had to come home and I was just ... preparing everything.”

I sighed. “Go on then. Tell me all about your adventures in Nepal.”

“Well, firstly, it’s true. What Sam told you and me - it’s true. I found Sadhu Kapil in a monastery about five hours outside of Kathmandu. It took me a couple of days to even get them to let me in – women are surplus to requirements for that particular religious establishment, apparently. Sadhu Kapil is known there for his visions. He’s had them all his life, but he tries to avoid people so he’s not subjected to them as much as he gets older. He explained to me that what he sees is very small and specific part of the future, and often there is no context. It’s often mixed with the past and he can’t tell which is which – only the person being told can. That’s how Sam knew things about me that no one else does. What he has to say is not even that clear to him after it’s said. He does levitate when he has the visions – just a few inches. It’s astounding to see – it happens when he touches something that triggers a vision. Sam was one. I ... I was another. He had a vision while I was there.”

She went silent. I snorted. I didn’t know what to make of this. It seemed like an elaborate ruse to go to just to get hold of my wife. But she truly believed this garbage, that was for sure. She wouldn’t lie to me.

“He touched me, and his eyes went white and he just bobbed in the air for a moment and then ... then he told me...” she took a deep breath, “he told me that I was Sam’s soul mate. That I was destined to be with him. That the world required me to be with him, that our union would produce a child.”

There was utter silence from me at this pronouncement. Sarah hesitated, and then plowed on.

“Sam didn’t tell you all of the prophecy he got. He thought it would be too much. The child he mentioned to you, the one he would have? It was with me. He was told that he’d meet a red haired woman around his 40th birthday. That he’d have to fight for her, and with her, he’d have a child that would change the world. Bring the world back to balance. That this child was necessary – he would have gifts the world would need. And that this woman would be his life mate, and make him complete, as he would make her complete.

“That’s why he went after me. It’s why he did everything to marginalize you. To separate me from you. He has been told that his child will be raised by a good man, and that he will make our son great. He was told things about me. He used those things to convince me that this was serious. And it is.”

There was more silence. She stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

“Have a child eh? Are you even using contraception any more?” I said, slowly. She’d been on the pill till our misguided trip to the airfield. She looked away. Answer enough.

“So, you are actively trying to make this happen then.”

“I’m pregnant. It was confirmed yesterday. That’s why I hadn’t come back yet.”

There was an even deeper silence between us. Among the crowds of people getting coffee, talking on their phones, gossiping and passing the time of day, we were a well of silence. A small black hole among the busiest of galaxies.

I sighed again.

“We both know it’s not yours, Trevor. Just another part of the prophecy.”

“I supposed you are riding off into the sunset with your one true love then?” I said, staring at the table.

She took a deep breath and reached forward to take my hands. “I think it’s best Trev. Sam and I must have this baby. And he treats me well. You know he’s rich, more wealthy than we’ll ever be, so this baby will have the best of everything.”

“And so will you,” I said, raising my eyes to her.

“No. I already had the best of everything,” she said, softly.

“Well, now you get a big dick too,” I said savagely. She looked away.

After a moment, she let go of my hands, reached down into her bag and produced a large tan envelope. She passed it over to me.

“The divorce is in there. I’m not asking for anything. Sam can provide better of everything I already have. I’m not saying that to hurt you Trevor. Just ... that’s the reality.”

“So much for making it up to me, eh Sarah? I knew it was bullshit when you said it.”

Sarah had tears in her eyes. “I know Trevor. I’m so sorry. I really don’t want to hurt you. Neither does Sam. He’s so guilty that his happiness comes at the expense of yours. You didn’t do anything to deserve this, just fell in love with the wrong woman.”

“And what about you, Sarah? Did you ‘fall in love with the wrong man’,” I said, using air quotes.

“No,” she said quietly. “You’ve given me some of the best years of my life. I love you and I always will. But my future, and the future of my son is with Sam. It’s beyond my control.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. It’s one hundred percent in your control. You just can’t resist a bigger dick and lots of money. And this mumbo jumbo mystical bullshit gives you a guilt free out. Fuck you Sarah. Oh wait, he already did, didn’t he?”

“Don’t be like this Trevor. Please. Don’t end up bitter. I couldn’t bear that.”

“You don’t get to worry about it any more, whore.” I said, spitting the words out.

She was genuinely hurt by that. “Don’t call me that Trev. That’s not the way this is.”

“Isn’t it? A bigger dick, more money, is that’s what whores go for? Well, I hope trading up works for you.”

“Trevor ... I did say I’d fix you up with someone else, in order to balance out what was done to you. There’s someone here ... a gift if you like, from me to you. To try and make you feel less ... lost.”

She gestured behind her. Glancing back and nodding as another woman, a tall brunette, with a perfect figure, rose from a table behind us, looking over at us with a welcoming smile on her face.

And that’s when the anger, the white hot core of pure unadulterated rage hit. They say you see red. I couldn’t see anything. I just reacted.

“NO!” I shouted, slamming my fists on the table, scaring everyone and stopping conversation in the coffee shop dead. Sarah literally jerked back, surprise written across her face.


Sarah’s face was a mix of bewilderment and fear – I’d never been like this in the entire time we were married; this was unknown territory. She jumped up and retreated to where the other woman was standing, mouth open, body poised to run. She put her arm around Sarah, staring at me.

Savagely, I flipped the table over on it’s back. The anger was really making an appearance now.


Pausing only to pick up the envelope with the divorce papers in it, I turned and walked out of the coffee shop, seething, red faced and breathing heavily, people parting in front of me like the red sea parting for Moses. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of my temper right then, and rightly so.

Those who’ve read the original story will understand that while I’ve taken license with the actual events, and fleshed it out with a lot more backstory, the basic plot flow is the same as the original, right up to the very last event.

From now on, we go into unexplored Jezzaz Country, where it can get quite dark before it get light, if at all.

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