Faithful in Her Fashion

by RichardGerald

Caution: This Mystery Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Crime, Mystery, Cheating, Cuckold, Slow, .

Desc: Mystery Story: Sequel to the story Unfaithful. Wife, Simone, returns home to her husband Jimmy and her daughters, but things have changed.

The small black figure lay on the hard-green material of the cot. It was hardly the bed you would choose for a dying child, but the little girl they had named Beth was dying. She was hemorrhaging out her insides from the Ebola virus. Sitting by the dying child, covered with an impermeable material, was an alien looking figure -- thick blue latex covered the alien’s hands and gray goggles the eyes. Within that PPE (Personal Protection Equipment) Dr. Simone O’Reilly had run out of tears. Here in this room made of antiseptic white sheeting, covered like a visitor from another world, she sat with Beth waiting for death.

Dante had written of the rings of hell, but he had missed this circle populated by its relentless devils -- disease, malnutrition, and hemorrhaging flesh. Simone and her colleagues walked through this hell as visitors from another world, separated by thin plastic cloth from agonizing death but suffering from and with a common humanity.

“I have a little girl named Beth too,” Simone said to the all but still figure.

As Simone spoke, the Beth here was passing the border between pain and death. They could touch only through latex. The PPE suit was uncomfortable, a hot little torture chamber that everyone said was a vast improvement over the old suit. Simone knew her sins and accepted her misery, but she could not accept the death and suffering that surrounded her daily trips into this antiseptic abyss.

Her friend Claire Hudson seemed less troubled; more accepting of the suffering that surrounded them. Claire was the nurse, but Simone the doctor. The physician should be able to stop this, but it continued. This Devil had its own timetable, a harsh schedule of suffering and death. The best they could hope was to contain it like some wildfire and pray for it to burn itself out. Claire accepted this, but Simone did not. The doctor suffered with her patients and died a little with each. Beth moved from this life to the next, and Simone moved to the next room and then the next.

Early morning in the dark hut she shared with Ben, Simone woke from her latest nightmare. She was boating with her family when she found herself in the water. She and her daughters had gone swimming off the back of the boat, and her daughters had climbed back aboard, but before she could get on the boat began to move. Her husband Jimmy was in the front at the steering wheel, and she called to him that she was still in the water as the boat moved off. The girls were screaming for her. She began to swim for the boat, but it just moved further away. Simone called to her husband, but he didn’t seem to hear. The boat moved further and further away; then just as it disappeared, she woke up.

The hut was bathed in the dusky light of early morning. Ben lay beside her naked as she was. his hard body leaning into her softer one. His dark arm draped over her pale flesh. They had made love the night before as they did nearly every night. The needy, desperate sex of two souls seeking solace and longing for the touch of another human.

Ben Robinson had a fiancé in Atlanta. He was a registered nurse with a Ph.D. in Public Health. He had come to do his part in containing this threat to human existence. Simone had taken the inexperienced young African American under her wing and guided him through the shock of their odd existence. In return, he gave her his tall young black body and his amazing sexual prowess. For such a young man, his bedroom skills were highly advanced. They propped each other up and comforted each other when the inevitable crashes came. They came more often for Simone these days -- she had crashed last evening after the death of little Beth. Somehow, she could not totally separate the girl here from the one she’d left back home, but Ben had been there for her. That’s what they did for each other.

Ben emailed long letters to his fiancé back home, and whenever the satellite link was up, he took his turn at skyping home. His girl wrote him back and even wrote to Simone. Her last letter reminded Simone of Ben’s upcoming birthday and asked that Simone make it special. Ben’s girl’s name was Aamani; she had been born in Goa, India, before being adopted by an American couple. Aamani and Ben had an understanding. He had gone to fight disease, and she had stayed home to build their future. They carried none of the guilt regarding their sex life that Simone had with Jimmy. They were two young people who saw their future together as less than totally exclusive.

The thought of Jimmy was the daemon that pursued her through this hell on earth. Simone loved her husband. She needed to know he was home waiting for her. But was he? Jimmy had not called or written. He had sent letters from their daughters, and she had heard from her sister-in-law that things were well at home. Her friend Clare heard from her husband that Jimmy had been seen with a young woman, with some lawyer type. It could be nothing, but Simone knew in her soul that it was not. Jimmy was a difficult man to read. He didn’t wear his emotions outwardly. As a man, he never cried, and anger was felt but never shown. He was very much that man at the front of the boat, moving forward and never looking back.

Ben stirred beside her. The day was coming with its share of old and new misery. As the dawn broke, Simone knew her family would still be fast asleep in New York.

She was wrong, Jimmy O’Reilly was not yet asleep. He had had a long day which got longer as he returned from his trip to New York City. He had traveled for the case of Samuel Gil. The State of New Jersey’s appeal had gone to the Federal Circuit Court in Manhattan. The light had clearly turned red and stopped flashing -- that meant he could stop, didn’t it? Attorney Jimmy O’Reilly was representing what is known as the appellee position.

The case had come on in an unusual fashion. Fifteen years ago, Mary Slatterly had been strangled in her Trenton, New Jersey, apartment. At the time, the Trenton police had a plethora of suspects in the murder of the twenty-seven-year-old school teacher. Mary had a liking for one-night sexual encounters. There was no shortage of male suspects, and Samuel Gil was just one on the sizable list. He had an alibi provided by his drinking buddies, but maybe not that strong. Fifteen years later, DNA that was originally found at the murder scene and ruled not viable had morphed into a new lead through the advances in forensic science. The DNA from the carpet beneath Mary’s body was now usable, and the police were engaged in testing all their former suspects.

Samuel Gil when first asked agreed to give a cheek swab but balked at traveling from Saratoga, where he now lived, to Trenton to do so. Gil suggested visiting a local laboratory, but the Trenton police insisted on taking the sample themselves. Gil declined to travel to New Jersey; stating, he could not afford to take time off from his work as a carpenter. “There’s no union work up here. You don’t show they replace you,” Gil told the detective.

The Trenton police told Gil they would get back to him. What they did was try to surprise Gil at his Clifton Park Home on a Friday night after work. Staking out the house, the two detectives from Trenton waited all Friday night for Gil to return. Saturday morning they contacted the New York State police. When they checked with Gil’s employer early Saturday morning, a sleepy construction foreman informed them that Gil was out of State. The foreman was never asked why and didn’t volunteer that the company’s main current work was building houses in Pittsfield Mass.

The State police assumed that Gil was in flight and issued a detain order. There was, of course, no warrant or other legal process—or any further check. Such formalities were for mere citizens, not the illustrious New Jersey State Police. Sunday night, returning home after spending the weekend with his Massachusetts girlfriend, Gil was stopped and arrested by the State police. The charge was unclear, but the cuffs were firm.

Attorney O’Reilly received the call about eight Sunday evening and went to spring the client he had formerly only represented on a speeding ticket. O’Reilly still had an outstanding bill waiting to be paid but what can you do, ‘The man is in the lockup’? The presence of a lawyer and the lack of a warrant or any sustainable charge freed Sam Gil that Sunday night.

Sam decided in the circumstances that Trenton could, as he said, “stick their DNA test where the sun don’t shine.”

One subpoena and a Federal District judge ruling against the subpoena led to O’Reilly dodging questions in the Circuit Court. New Jersey wanted their cheek swab, and oddly Sam Gil had opened his wallet wide to stop them. The three-judge panel was debating the limits of a fourth amendment unreasonable search, and Jimmy O’Reilly had come prepared to argue the fifth amendment. No matter, he answered questions from what was a very hot bench.

New Jersey went first, and a few questions were asked. You get eight minutes timed with a set of lights. Green first then amber in the last ninety seconds. When the red light flashes, you stop. But judges aren’t bound by the lights. They can keep asking questions until they’ve had enough. The chief judge was a woman who apparently had a love affair going with the fourth amendment. Jimmy fielded her questions and pushed his case. After all, Mr. Gil was paying, and the clock still ran, ticking off billable dollars whatever the lights said.

“All right then, to summarize your position, Mr. O’Reilly,” the female judge finally said, “the state of New Jersey’s request is unreasonable in the circumstances.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Heterosexual / Fiction / Crime / Mystery / Cheating / Cuckold / Slow /