My name is Lisa Kincaid-Mancuso. I’m what you’d call a freelance problem solver. No, I’m not a hit woman or anything like that. I’m just the one person people can turn to if they need answers on anything from changing their corporate image, to restructuring an inefficient production line. Don’t think badly about me. I’m not what you’d call a traditional efficiency expert. I show people how to do things better and faster. I don’t try and eliminate hard working people from their jobs.
You’d be surprised. Sometimes just talking management into building a nice break room with kitchen facilities can do wonders to increase employee productivity. If I have to absolutely eliminate a job, I usually have enough contacts where I can help find re-employment for the person or persons let go. If I was a true cut-throat, I’d be rolling in money, with a list of clients a mile long. I just don’t have the stomach to be that ruthless.
I’ve been happily married now for three years, and I have a confession to make. My comfortable happy life was nearly torn apart. I guess you could say it all started with my damn Internet going on the fritz. I was just trying to check my emails, and Comblast was not cooperating! I shut my computer off and headed downstairs. You could probably say I wasn’t in the best of moods.
“Hey babe.” My husband Frank greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind, but me and the guys are gonna head on out tonight with the big boss man as a bonus for closing our latest deal. We’re catching the game in the city, grabbing some dinner, and then heading over to his house for some poker. I think Mr. Briggs wants to win some of that bonus money back! Anyway, it’s going to be an all nighter, I’m afraid.”
“That’s just great!” Don’t get me wrong. I love Frank dearly, but the boy’s night out thing was getting a little old. “I thought we were going to go see a movie tonight? We had plans.”
He gave me his patented little boy smile and pulled me to him. “Come on Lisa, don’t be like that! It’s not often Larry Briggs is in a money spending mood.” He kissed me, and anger or not, I knew I was letting him run off to play once again. “Damn it, it’s Friday too! Don’t you think I wanted to blow off some steam after a long work week too?” I smiled. “How about if I go with you? I like baseball, and I’m a damn good poker player.”
“Babe, we only have four tickets and its football season anyway.” He kissed me again. “Besides, if Wilson’s girlfriend knew we were bringing a woman to the game, she’d get all, well, nasty. She thinks every woman on Earth is trying to steal her man.”
I just shook my head. I’ve met Cynthia. Her claws are so deep into Billy Wilson that it’s almost funny. The poor man can’t even glance at a woman in the grocery store without Cindy giving him an inquisition. Rumor has it that he spent a week sleeping in their guest room because she noticed he got a boner while watching Megan Fox in Transformers. “Okay just go!” I tempered my angry outburst with a smile. “Tomorrow night you are taking me out to dinner and a movie, got it, buster?”
“It’s a date, babe!” Frank nearly ran for the door, as if I was going to change my mind.
I sighed. At least living with Frank is getting me ready to handle children. I laughed when I head my husband give out a triumphant cheer as he hopped into his car and sped off. I guess that was the real root of my mood. I’ve been off the pill now for two whole cycles. I was hoping for a little loving tonight, seeing that my body was fertile as a turtle and raring to go!
I sighed, and poured myself a cup of coffee. “I’ll just have to sit up late.” Frank may be tired when he rolls in at whatever ungodly hour, but I knew several sure fire ways to get him ready for action! If I was very lucky, maybe I could talk him into going bareback. The poor thing was scared to death of being a daddy.
I spotted his computer bag on the kitchen table and grinned. “At least I can check my emails.” I sat at the table and pulled the machine out and booted it up. His desk top image made me laugh. It was some busty Japanese animation character dressed in a leotard. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. It looked like Frank was finally developing an interest in my little anime addiction.
I took care of my correspondence and just started noodling around on the internet. I wasn’t trying to spy or anything when I clicked on “Bookmarks”. Like I expected, there were a few sites listed that related to my husband’s work. Down at the bottom of the list, there was a folder labeled “Wildfire”. I clicked it, and nearly spit coffee all over the computer.
“Porn!” I exclaimed. Frank had always claimed he never cruised porn sites since we were married. I never actually believed him on that, but seeing the dozens of sites listed was like a slap in the face! That’s when it clicked where I had seen that busty girl. My husband must have watched “Princess 69”, an anime that was far too extreme in it’s portrayal of violent bondage rape scenes for my tastes. I had deleted it from my computer, um, after I watched every episode.
I clicked the bookmark at the top of the list. It had the unlikely name of Impregnorium. The site proudly proclaimed itself to be the best impregnation community on the net! My finger was shaking as I clicked on “Enter the Site”.
The laptop was set to remember the username and password. I was in. “Holy fuck! He’s got to be kidding!” My husband’s user name was “Coozehuntingman”. I guess he thought that was a clever play on Mancuso. I thought it was disgusting though, especially when I looked up Cooze on the Urban Dictionary. According to them, a Cooze is a girl so superficial, shallow, provincial, and generally ignorant, that all she’s good for is screwing. Cooze would be a good word to describe Paris Hilton, if she didn’t have all that money.
I was tempted to stuff the laptop into the microwave and nuke it, but I started looking through the site. “Oh my God, this can’t be happening!” My husband, using his Coozehuntingman alter-ego, had started his own thread in this impregnation discussion group. I clicked on “Hunt club”. He had posted quite a few photographs of women. They were all naked! Many of them were also women I knew!
There was nasty Cynthia, with her legs spread wide. Gooey white semen was dribbling out onto the bed. It was captioned “Cindy won’t let her boyfriend do her without a condom. I ride that bitch bareback every time! She says she plans on telling him the condom must have failed when her belly starts getting big.”
I found a picture of Melissa Briggs, Frank’s boss’s wife next. She was rubbing her baby bump and grinning wickedly up at the camera. That one stated “My pride and joy! Melissa has a knack for finding other women ripe for me to knock up!”
I looked on and on. There were ten pictures in all. Some of women I’ve seen around the various office parties my husband’s company throws, and the rest were strangers. All of them were naked, and three were obviously pregnant. The text claimed the others were well on the way. They all seemed smugly happy about their condition too.
The text was also full of comments from Frank, as Coozehuntingman, about how understanding his wife is, and how she had introduced him to the idea of an open marriage. How can he lie like that? Does he think the whole world will believe I let Melissa pick him sluts to impregnate? What am I thinking? He posted it on the Internet; of course people will believe it!
I was so angry that tears just ran down my cheeks. “You God damned asshole!” I shouted at the computer. “You cheating son of a bitch!” I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. Here I had been trying for nearly a year to convince Frank we should have children, and all that time he was running around like some kind of one man population explosion! I was livid!
Frank even knew I got off the pill. I had told him they didn’t agree with me. The day I told him, the damn hypocrite went out and bought condoms! Even with them, he won’t touch me if he knows I’m fertile. Why is he so hot to knock those whores up, but not his own wife?
I sat at the table and cried for about an hour. Anger slowly forced me away from feeling helpless, and started me thinking about what I could do. “Divorce is the obvious answer!” I whispered, but that didn’t appeal to my vengeful soul. Besides, infidelity is so common these days that most courts don’t even take it into consideration as grounds for divorce. Let’s be truthful. I was supremely angry, but I still loved the fucking bastard. His extra-curricular activates didn’t change that. I don’t want to toss him out over this. I wanted to grow old with him!
It shames me to admit it, but there where one or two other tiny little matters to consider, even if I did attempt to divorce Frank. I loved my freelance work, but sometimes I went weeks without a paycheck. I’d be a damn fool to divorce someone who was rocketing up the corporate ladder like Frank.
Dammit! Why the hell did I ever talk him into signing a prenuptial agreement that would have me walk away with nothing if we should decide to split up? I can’t believe I actually told him I wouldn’t be one of those gold digging bitches that try to milk a guy out of every penny. We don’t even have a joint bank account! I use the checks I make as my personal spending money. Frank takes care of all the bills. Oh my God! The house and even my car are in his name! Does love make everybody turn stupid?
.... There is more of this story ...