Bad Things

by Just Plain Bob

Copyright© 2017 by Just Plain Bob

Fiction Story: Bad things come in threes right?

Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Slow   .

I pulled into the parking lot of Bud’s Bar, shut off the engine and then spent five minutes staring at the wall of the building in front of me as the voices in my head fought it out. One voice was saying:

“Go on in there and get shitfaced” and the other voice was saying “You need to remain calm and be cool about this and you can’t do that if you get drunk out of your mind.” “Bullshit!” said the first voice. “Right now you need to blot it out of your mind and the only way you can do that is kill it with alcohol” and the other voice said, “You can’t make rational decisions if you are bombed out of your mind.”

I finally decided that I needed a drink even if I didn’t get drunk and I walked in and took a stool at the end of the bar. Bob, the bartender, came over to me and asked if I wanted my usual (which was a bottle of PBR) and I told him to bring me the beer and two inches of Jim Beam.

“What’s up Ryan? You never drink whiskey.”

“Got to be a first time for everything Bob.”

He left and a minute later came back with the PBR and a shot glass of JB. I knocked back the JB and chased it with the PBR and then told Bob to bring one more shot of the JB. It went down followed by the beer and I told Bob he could take the shot glass away as I was through with the hard stuff. He brought me another PBR and then I sat there taking sips and peeling the labels off the bottles. I don’t even remember when or why I started peeling labels of the bottles, but it had become a habit and I did it without thinking.

They say that bad things happen in threes and I wondered how often all three happened on the same day. The day started out bright and sunny. My wife woke me with a blowjob and then proceeded to try and fuck me to death.

“I need enough to hold me until you get back” is what she told me.

I had a five o’clock flight to Dallas that afternoon and would be gone for three days. It was a very important trip for me. If I could land the Evan’s account it should be enough to get me the promotion to the regional manager’s slot that would open when Chris Mellon retired. The only other person being considered was Marge Walton, but I had more seniority, more experience and a better sales record. Landing Evans should clinch the job for me.

I spent a very productive day at the office and at three I headed for the airport and the first bad thing. I was passing through the intersection of Clairmont and Dexter when a drunk ran the red light and t-boned me on the passenger’s side. I was shaken up, but luckily I wasn’t hurt. The drunk wasn’t as lucky. He didn’t have his seat belt on and the sudden stop caused him to be thrown forward and his head smashed into something, probably the door post and he was bleeding like a stuck pig when the EMTs reached the scene.

By the time the police were through and my car was towed away it was too late to catch my flight. I called John Heinz at Evans and explained what was going on and rescheduled our meeting for late the next day instead of the early morning meeting we were supposed to have.

I called my insurance and let him know that I would be filing a claim, called the airline and arranged for a set on the first flight out the next morning, and then called a cab to take me to the nearest rental car agency. I drove back to the office to fill my boss in on what was happening. It was after five so all the office help would be gone for the day, but Barry (my boss) would still be there. He never left before six.

I expected the lot to be empty except for Barry’s BMW so I was surprised when I got there and saw that Marge’s Mustang was still there. I let myself in the building and headed up the stairs. Before I reached the top of the stairs I knew what I was going to find. I could hear what was going on. It seemed that Marge was a very loud piece of ass.

I moved up quietly and slowly moved to where I could see what was going on. Barry had Marge bent over his desk and was fucking her from behind. Marge’s sweater was pushed up around her neck, her bra was laying on the floor next to her high heeled shod feet and her skirt was bunched up around her waist. Her tits were hanging down and swaying as Barry pounded into her. Marge was a sexy looking bitch and being a bit of a tit man myself I’d always envied her husband being able to play with those 38DDs.

When she moaned, “That’s it baby fuck my ass, fuck it hard” I went instantly iron bar hard. I’d always wanted to try anal, but my wife had always refused me. The combination of those swaying tits and her moaning for Barry to fuck her ass harder made me pull out my cell, put it on video and start recording. I wanted to pull out my dick and stroke it while I watched, but didn’t dare because it might somehow call attention to me. I just stood there as still as I could and watched, listened and recorded the action.

I need to say up front that I was not taping them for use as blackmail material. The only reason I was videotaping the action was so that I could use it when I was alone in my hotel room. I’d never been unfaithful to my wife, but I did sometimes get horny on my trips and I would find some porn to watch or read while I took matters in hand if you catch my drift. I could see where what I was watching would fuel my fantasies for a long time to come.

Barry hissed, “Here it comes slut” and Marge cried “Fill my ass, fill my ass” and I guess Barry did just that.

Then the second bad thing of the day happened. They stopped fucking and started talking.

“If we are going to keep this up you are going to need to get a sofa bed or a couch in here.”

“Why? It is easier to bang your butt when you are standing and leaning over the desk.”

“Maybe for you, but it is uncomfortable for me. What is it with you and my ass anyway?”

“My wife won’t let me have hers and you seem to like it.”

Marge laughed and said, “Bill (her husband) would kick me out of the house if I didn’t let him pound my pooper at least twice a week. While we are on the subject of you fucking my ass when are you going to announce my promotion to regional manager?”

“As soon as I can find some way to handle Ryan. I can’t afford to lose him.”

“Just tell him the truth. That I’ve got a pussy and a tight ass and he doesn’t. You promised me the job if I would put out for you and I’m holding you to it. Give him a raise and tell him I’ll sweeten the pot by giving him some of my tight ass too.”

Barry laughed and said, “Mr. Straight Arrow? You would stand a better chance of winning the lottery that getting him to cheat on his wife.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I’ve seen the way looks at my girls. I’d bet money that he would like to get up close and personal with them.”

“Don’t be stupid Marge. You can hide us from Bill, but you would be taking a hell of a chance taking on another lover.”

“Not a problem sweetie; as long as we keep it here in the building and don’t start using motels or hotels he’ll never find out.”

I’d seen and heard enough and I very silently got out of the building, got in my car and headed for home and the third bad thing.

I hadn’t even thought about calling home and letting the wife know of the change in plans. I just assumed that she would be at home watching television or curled up on the couch reading a book so imagine my surprise when I turned onto our street just in time to see her get in a car that I didn’t recognize. She slid over, kissed the driver and then moved back over to the passenger side of the seat.

The car pulled away and I followed along behind. I didn’t bother to stay way back since I was in a rental and I doubted that she would be looking over the seat to see what was behind her. I followed them to the Texas Roadhouse and watched them park in the lot. I was surprised when they got out of the car. The guy was Mark Houser and he had been the wife’s steady boyfriend all the way through high school and college. They broke up just before graduation and I never heard the reason why. I heard that he left town to go to some college back east to get an MBA. Wharton I think it was. Word was that he found a job with some big outfit on the east coast. That had been about twelve years ago.

They walked, holding hands, into the Roadhouse. That and the kiss I’d seen when she got in the car added to the fact that I was supposed to be in Dallas told me how the evening was going to end for them. I debated going in here and confronting them, but public scenes were not my thing so I just muttered “Fuck it” to myself and headed for my favorite watering hole.

As I worked on my PBR I went over the happenings of the day and what they meant as far as my life was concerned. My marriage was toast. Didn’t matter to me if that night was just a ‘one off’ as our British cousins would say or the start of an affair. For all I knew it was the continuing of an affair since I had no idea of how long Houser had been back. It could be their hundredth meeting for all I knew. All I knew for sure was that the wife and I were through.

She damned sure knew my mind set when it came to infidelity. My mother had destroyed our family when she cheated on my dad and I had watched my brother and sister both go through divorces because of cheating. My stance, and the wife knew it well, was if you were going to look for someone else to play with at least have the decency to end the marriage first. If you didn’t do that then in my mind you were a worthless cheater and as far as I was concerned no one in their right mind would stay with a cheater.

The accident wasn’t going to be a problem. I would get a brand new car out of it. The drunk driver was driving a company van and between my insurance and the drunk’s company I’d get enough to get a new vehicle instead of something of ‘comparative value’ which is what my insurance would cover. I wouldn’t be an asshole and sue for a bunch of money. At least I wouldn’t if they did right by me. All I would ask for was that they make up the difference between what my insurance would give me and the cost of the new vehicle. And I wouldn’t be doing a major upgrade like replacing a Ford Escort with a new BMW. All I was going to do was replace my three year old Silverado with a new one.

Of course I would let them know that they had a choice. They could cover the difference or they could say screw off and I’d get an attorney and sue them for everything I could get. I think it would be a good bet that they would take the easy way out. It would cost them more in attorney’s fees to fight my suit that it would cost to give me what I initially asked for.

The job situation was going to be the major problem. I liked my job and until I saw what I had seen I liked my boss and the people I worked with. But that was then. Now both Barry and Marge were cheaters in my eyes and I’ve already put down what my feelings are where that is concerned. Even if Barry hadn’t been married he would still be a cheating asshole for fucking another man’s wife. Barry did say that he couldn’t afford to lose me, but could I continue working for him and working with Marge after they had fucked over me?

My first impulse when I got in my car was driving over to Barry’s and showing his wife the video and then going over to Marge’s and letting her husband see it, but then I decided not to do anything in the heat of the moment. Maybe wait and see what he offered me when he gave Marge the promotion. Of course I could just show Barry the video and tell him the promotion goes to me or the video goes to his wife. I couldn’t see where doing that would be good for me. Working with Barry and Marge after doing something like that wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. I’d be better off just quitting and finding another job.

I finished my PBR and told Bob no when he asked if I wanted another and then I got up and went out to my car. Once in the car I had a decision to make. Go home or check into a motel? I decided to go home. Might as well get the confrontation over with.

I wasn’t surprised when I got home and found that the wife wasn’t there. I always called home as soon as I checked into the hotel when I travelled so I called her. We gave up the landline when we switched to cell phones so I took out my phone and hit the speed dial for Brooke’s phone. She answered on the third ring and said, “High baby. I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“Hi yourself. Where are you?”

“I’m home.”

“Where at home?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Humor me my love. Where in the house are you?”

“I’m in the basement putting a load of laundry into the washer.”

“Hang on for just a minute” I said and put my phone down. I did a slow count to thirty and then picked up my phone and said:

“Nope. You aren’t in the basement. I just looked.”

Silence from the other end for a couple of seconds and then a “Where are you?”

“Home of course. How else could I check the basement and see that you aren’t there? I guess my next question should be are you in a hotel or motel room with Houser or has he moved back and has a house or an apartment here?”

There was silence and then I said, “Guess it doesn’t really matter. House, apartment, hotel or motel room the end result is all the same right?”

I disconnected and turned my phone off. I undressed, took a shower, set the alarm for five and went to bed. Maybe five minute after I pulled the covers up I heard Brooke come in the front door. I wondered what she thought about the strange car parked out front. It took her a couple of minutes to go through the first floor and basement looking for me. Eventually her search brought her upstairs and to the bedroom. I pretended to be asleep and she must have decided to let me sleep and have me awake and clearheaded in the morning when she tried to run whatever story she had come up with on me. I heard her undress and then she got in bed, moved over and snuggled up to me and I heard her whisper “I love you” and then I faded off to sleepy-land.

I woke up at five to six and as quietly as I could I got up and turned off the alarm before it could wake Brooke. She was a sound sleeper and usually wouldn’t wake up until seven. She didn’t need to be to work until nine and I wanted to be gone before she woke up. I was dressed and headed for the door when I heard, “Ryan?” I turned to see Brooke coming down the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To Dallas. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Ryan? Please baby; we have to talk.”

“Indeed we do.” I said. “See you in three or four days.”

As I backed down the drive I saw Brooke standing on the porch watching me leave. I wasn’t a block away from the house before my phone started ringing. I shut he phone off and didn’t turn it back on until I was in Dallas. When I turned it back on I found eleven missed messages and three voicemails all from Brooke. I deleted them all without listening to them and turned the phone off and left it off from the entire time I was in Dallas.


It only took me two days to hammer out an agreement and nail down the Evans account and I turned on the phone to call Barry and give him the good news and discovered the phone was full of missed messages and voicemails, again all from Brooke, and I deleted them without listening to them. Barry was happy to hear that we had Evans on board, but didn’t seem too happy when I told him that since I had done it in two days instead of the allocated three that I was going to take the third day off to take care of some personal business.

My first stop when I got home was my insurance agent’s office. As I had expected he had a check for the replacement value of a three year old truck. I swung by the credit union and deposited the check and then headed for the local Chevy dealer where I dickered with them over the price of a new Silverado ¾ ton long bed with four wheel drive. We arrived at a price and I wrote them a check for a deposit and got the paperwork started.

Next stop was Comstock Manufacturing. I had to talk to three people before getting to see the VP of Operations. I explained the situation to him, told him the price of my new truck, told him what my insurance had given me and then told him that I expected Comstock to pick up the difference. He laughed at me and told me that I must be smoking dope if I thought I would get any money from them. The man came across as an arrogant asshole and I took an instant dislike to him.

“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you on this” I said to him. “The facts of the matter are that your employee was drunk when he ran a red light while driving a company truck on company time and in doing so hit and totaled my truck. Best you call your legal people and talk it over with them before making a decision not to pay. Your choice is to write me a check for nine thousand forty-two dollars and be done with it or I will hire an attorney and sue you for damages.

“I will win and you will end up paying a hell of a lot more than the difference between what my insurance company gave me and the cost of new truck. You will end up paying all court costs, my attorney’s fees plus whatever the judge or jury decided to award me. I will give you until noon Monday to make your choice. I either get a check from you or I will see an attorney and file suit. Noon Monday!”

I got up and left his office.

From Comstock I went to see my cousin Lou. Lou was my attorney and I ran everything by him and he told me he would get a copy of the police report and be ready to move on Comstock if I gave the word. Lou didn’t do divorces so I didn’t bring up my situation with Brooke, but I would ask him for a recommendation when I was ready.

I was getting ready to pull out of the parking lot at Lou’s when my phone rang. I didn’t look at it figuring that it was probably the wife trying to reach me for the zillionth time since I left for Dallas, but then had the thought that it could be Barry. I looked at the screen and saw that it was a number that I didn’t recognize. I took the call and it turned out to be from Comstock. The man I talked to asked me to come in, sign a release and pick up a check. He asked me for the amount I needed and just because I was pissed at the arrogant asshole that I first talked to I jacked up the amount an extra five hundred for spite and he told me who to ask for when I reached the reception desk. I went back into Lou’s office and told him he could drop the matter.

I drove back to Comstock and met with the man who had called me, signed the release, took the check and then made my second visit of the day to the credit union. I deposited the check, went back to the Chevy dealer, wrote them a check to pay off the truck and then made arrangements to pick it up the next day.

I decided to go into the office and drop off all of the paperwork on the Evans deal and on the way I thought about what my options were as far as my job was concerned. It boiled down to two choices. Stay or go. If I left I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t have any problem in finding a new job. I knew for a fact that a couple of our competitors would like to have me and I also knew that if I wanted to be an asshole about it I could hurt Barry pretty bad because I also knew that if I left I could take several of my accounts with me.

I could stay, but could I work with Barry and Marge? There would be resentment over what the two had done to me and the question was could I suppress it or hide if I stayed? I didn’t honestly know if I could or not. I made good money and I had great benefits. Did I really want to give them up and start over someplace else just because I got fucked over? I could get back to where I was now in terms of compensation, but it would probably take a couple of years. Barry had told Marge that he couldn’t afford to lose me and I had to wonder what he had in mind to do to keep me around after giving the promotion to Marge. I decided to adopt a wait and see attitude.

When I got to the office I handed the Evan’s paperwork to Jillian (the office manager) and was headed for the door when Barry saw me and asked me to join him in his office. He told Stella (his secretary) to see that we weren’t disturbed and he locked his office door. I sat down in the chair across the desk from him.

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