You Can't Handle the Truth
Copyright© 2026 by SummitMan
Chapter 20
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 20 - A man is betrayed by his wife which he discovers in a brutal fashion. He leaves her to rebuild his life without her. The story also tracks what happens to the wife.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Reluctant Fiction Cheating Slut Wife Humiliation
Boston
Claire closed her office door, sat down at her desk, and placed her head in her hands.
Her life had fallen apart. The divorce decree was due any day, and her daughter and son barely spoke to her. When they did communicate, their replies were usually limited to a sentence or two. Worse, a miserable, predatory man she could barely stand to think about had taken up residence in her house.
She had to get Luke out before the academic term ended. Once her children arrived, she would have no way to explain why he was still living there.
Every afternoon, she left work without knowing what awaited her at home: cold indifference or another encounter she would later struggle to understand. To her shame, she had begun to anticipate the aggressive sex and the degrading things Luke said to her. She was frightened by that anticipation. It made her wonder whether something in her was damaged beyond repair.
She resolved to find a psychologist within the next few days—someone unaffiliated with the university, who would not know her professionally or personally.
Her misery was interrupted by a knock at the door. Her boss, Jane, walked in before waiting for a reply.
“Claire, I need you to do something for me today for a couple of hours around lunch. We just lured a Professor from the University of Chicago and the business faculty is spreading out the red carpet. They are handling him most of the time, but they wanted someone to take him to lunch and talk about life at the University.”
Claire staired at Jane, uncomprehending for a moment. “Why me? That’s not a job for public relations.”
Jane responded, “You were requested, I think, because you are very visible to the public and speak cogently and well. The fact that you are quite attractive and it is a male professor probably plays into it, though no one would admit to that. Look. I checked your Outlook calendar, and I know that you are free. I will bring him here at noon to introduce you to him and then you just hand him back at 2:00 pm. Dead easy.”
“OK, OK. I don’t have anything else on the calendar. I assume I can expense lunch. I’ll take him to the new seafood restaurant around the block.” Claire finished with a hopeful uplift.
“That’s my girl. Not more than a hundred dollars each for the meal, but other than that, go where you want.” Jane responded brightly before briskly walking out, leaving Claire to her private misery.
The brisk knock exactly at noon knocked Claire out of her revery. Jane walked in with a man, obviously the professor, in tow.
Then Claire saw his face.
“Jim?” she said. “Jim Mitchell? What are you doing here?”
The man stopped just inside the office. His surprise quickly turned into a broad smile.
“Claire Sterling. I had no idea you were in Boston. Talk about fate intervening.”
Jane looked back and forth between the two of them. “You know each other?”
Claire forced herself to smile. “We met years ago at the University of Chicago, when Jack was finishing his PhD. You were an assistant professor then, weren’t you?”
“I was.” Jim’s smile widened. “And now Boston University has been kind enough to poach me. It’s good to see you, Claire.”
He walked around the desk and pulled her into a hug. To Jane, the gesture looked warm and familiar. But with Jane’s attention turned toward the door, Jim pressed his mouth against Claire’s ear and gave it a brief, deliberate bite.
Claire went rigid.
The contact lasted only a second, but it was enough to awaken a flood of memories she had spent years trying to bury. She kept her expression composed until Jim released her.
He continued holding her hand.
“So,” he said, “shall we go to lunch and catch up? This is already proving more enjoyable than I expected.”
Jane beamed at them. “Yes, yes. Off you go. It’s good to know that you already have a friend on campus, Jim. I’ll see you both back here at two o’clock sharp.”
Jim gestured toward the door.
Claire gathered her purse and followed him, aware that Jane was watching them leave—and equally aware that she had no idea what had just passed between them.
Surprisingly, Jim kept the conversation professional throughout lunch, discussing his career and asking about Claire’s work. Nearly twenty years had passed since they had last seen each other, so they had plenty of ground to cover.
“So, Professor Mitchell,” Claire said, lifting her glass, “how does someone from Chicago end up accepting a position in Boston?”
“An excellent recruitment package, an impressive research budget, and the promise that I could head up the department in a couple of years if I so choose. Boston University wanted someone with experience, but they also wanted someone willing to take risks. Apparently, I fit the profile.”
“You always did enjoy taking risks.”
Jim smirked at her comment.
“What about you? Jane tells me you’re involved in communications and external relations.”
“Well yes, more like a university spokesperson. Whenever there is a scandal or difficult issue they like to bring me in to paper over it. The press seems to like me and I can think on my feet, so I don’t get surprised.”
As they walked back toward the university, Jim matched his pace to hers.
“You should have dinner with me tonight,” he said.
Claire looked over at him. “Tonight?”
“Why not? We’ve barely begun catching up.”
“I have plans.”
“Cancel them.”
She stopped walking. “That isn’t really how plans work.”
“It is when they’re unimportant.”
“You don’t know whether they’re unimportant.”
“Then tell me what they are.”
Claire resumed walking. “I’m not discussing my personal life with you on the pavement.”
“I’m not asking for a detailed explanation. I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”
“We just had lunch.”
“Lunch was a professional obligation. Dinner would be different.”
“Different how?”
“More relaxed. More private. We could talk about the past without Jane waiting for us to return.”
Claire gave him a guarded look. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“That sounds like a reason to think about it, not a reason to refuse.”
Claire sighed and considered her options, dinner with Jim or a humiliating bout of sex with Luke. Jim was the much more desirable option.
Claire sighed, “OK, let’s meet at 6:30. I’ll text you the location.”
The new seafood restaurant was better than Claire had expected. The room was warm and softly lit, the tables were close enough to feel lively without being crowded, and the food was excellent. By the time the main course arrived, the despair that had been continually with her begun to lift.
Jim was partly responsible. He was blunt without being cruel, amusing without trying too hard, and irritatingly intelligent. He challenged almost everything she said, but he did so with enough wit that she found herself enjoying the argument. As the evening progressed, Claire remembered why she had once found him so compelling.
The spark she had felt in her office that morning had returned.
“You’re quieter than I remember,” Jim said as he poured more wine into her glass.
“I’m older than I was when you remember me.”
“That doesn’t explain the quiet.”
“Perhaps I’ve become more thoughtful.”
“No. You’ve become more cautious.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for less than a day after a twenty-year absence, and you’re already diagnosing my personality?”
“A good professor can do things like that.”
“A tedious professor can do that also.”
“Then it’s fortunate that I’m an excellent professor.”
She laughed, and the sound surprised her. She could not remember the last time she had laughed so easily.
They lingered over dessert, then moved to the restaurant’s small bar for after-dinner drinks. Claire ordered a brandy, while Jim chose a whisky. The restaurant had begun to empty, and the conversation became less guarded as the evening grew quieter.
“So tell me about Jack. What has he been up to?”
Claire studied him for a moment, then leaned back in her chair.
“You may recall that Jack was doing his PhD at Chicago when we lived there. But after graduation, he was appointed as an assistant professor at Boston University. He was doing Pharma research in biochemistry, and eventually he developed what he thought would be a commercially viable drug. Rather than licensing the work, he decided to form a company around it.”
“His own company?”
“Yes. He persuaded several people to invest, found the right executives. Their drug passed FDA approval and the company valuations took off. It didn’t take long before a large pharmaceutical company bought them.”
“How much did you make?”
“Typical of a business professor to ask about the payout rather than the impact of the drug! Tens of millions for us.”
Jim’s glass paused halfway to his mouth.
Claire noticed. “That got your attention.”
Claire continued. “Jack stayed with the company after the acquisition. The pharmaceutical firm brought him in as a research lead, and he’s been there ever since.”
Jim leant forward, “Does he still have equity?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t paid attention to the details.”
Jim seemed astonished, “You don’t know how much he makes?”
Claire looked back with a bemused expression, “Not a clue. Most of the money seems to come from options or stocks, but I have never really paid attention. It brings in a few million a year, but I don’t know how much.”
Jim said nothing, but Claire was watching him carefully and could see some kind of expression flit across his face. Perhaps her casual comment of an unspecific few million a year threw him for a loop.
“Have I offended you?” Claire asked. “You’ve gone quiet.”
He smiled, but the expression did not quite reach his eyes. “It’s an impressive story.”
Claire heard something in his tone. “You don’t sound convinced.”
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