Clint Cartwright ended his Zoom call and clicked the Outlook icon to check his email. He briefly mused about the irony of having video meetings with people in the same office, at the same time, yet video conferencing instead of face-to-face. He, like most managers, thought that returning to working in the office would end the era of Zoom meetings. It had not. Like many other companies, Clint’s employer had increased their hiring during the global pandemic. This led to hiring people that lived in different states and in a couple of instances, different countries. Unlike other companies that were now laying off those employees who were panic hires during the pandemic, Fenix Financial was doing so well they were continuing to hire. Thus, the a need for continued Zoom calls.

Clint was in the middle of responding to an email from the training department when he received a Teams notification.

Terry Cobb: u in ur ofc?

Clint Cartwright: Y

Terry Cobb: c u in 2

Clint Cartwright: K

Terry was a director for Fenix while Clint was a senior director. Terry was in sales and marketing while Clint was in charge of operations. Terry answered to a senior director whereas Clint answered to a vice-president. Clint and Terry were close in age and appearance both being in their mid to late thirties, six feet (actually 5’11” in Terry’s case) with light hair, clean shaven, and average to handsome looks. They had become friends over the years as they played on the company softball team and had occasional poker nights at the various houses of other senior managers that comprised an informal poker club.

“Can you meet me for a drink after work?” Terry asked, without preamble after sticking his head into Clint’s office.

“Sure. What’s up?” Clint said.

“I don’t want to get into it here, but I need to discuss something with you.”

Clint glanced at his watch. “The Hound at five?” The Fox and Hound was an English-style pub that was the go-to after-work hangout for the office.

Terry shook his head. “No, Let’s meet at Ricardo’s. They’re more private and no one from Fenix will be there.”

“You got me kind of nervous T,” Clint said. “This sounds serious.”

Terry shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you’ll let me know if it is.”

After Terry left his office, Clint sent a text to Fallon, his wife of twelve years.

Clint: Mtg Terry C for drinks a/w.

Fallon: K. Have fun.

Five-thirty found the two men in a secluded, burgundy leather booth in the dark, richly paneled bar area of Ricardo’s Chop House. It was higher end than the usual after-work haunts of the Fenix staff, and although senior managers occasionally brought clients and visitors to the restaurant, no one from Fenix was present tonight.

“So, what’s up?” Clint asked shortly after their waitress dropped off their drinks. An old fashioned for Clint and a vodka martini, straight up for Terry.

“This stays between us, right?” Terry asked.

“Of course.”

Terry closed his eyes and exhaled. He opened them and began his story.

“The wife and I have been looking at ways to spice up our sex lives. We’ve been married for fifteen years now and things are getting kind of well, boring.” He paused to take a sip of his martini.

“It happens,” Clint said. “It’s something I worry about with me and Fallon.”

Terry nodded his agreement. “After three kids and all the BS that comes with life, we’ve been trying to figure out how to add some excitement. We started looking at some porn sites but that didn’t really do anything for us. Until we started watching some swinger videos. What people call ‘the lifestyle.’ We thought that was pretty hot. But just fucking strangers for the sake of fucking strangers didn’t really appeal to Donna. Actually, I was probably a little more into it than Donna. That is until we came across a subset of the swinger community.”

“Okayyy...,” Clint drawled out. He was not sure where Terry was going with this. He was both fascinated and repelled by his friend’s revelations about his marital sex life. “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked.

“I’m getting there,” Terry said before taking another sip of his martini. “Are you familiar with the hotwife and cuckold dynamic?”

Clint frowned at the question. “I’ve heard of it and I guess I’m familiar with the basics. Don’t tell me you’re into being a cuckold?”

Terry shook his head. “Not really. Well, maybe a little, but not really. The thought of Donna having sex with someone else doesn’t really bother me as long as I’m there, but I’m not into the humiliation factor. At all. But I do know that’s part of the whole cuckold thing and watching it play out on a video is pretty hot. I’m just not sure I could do it in real life.” Terry paused to take another sip of his martini and took a deep breath. As if he were preparing himself for an unpleasant job.

“One of the resources we discovered was on PostItt. Are you familiar with PostItt?” Terry asked.

Clint nodded. He was familiar with PostItt. After Reddit’s IPO, they were forced by their shareholders to clean up their site. This virtually eliminated all hardcore sexual content. PostItt was started by ex-Reddit employees as a means of allowing users who had been disenfranchised by Reddit to post adult content. So far it seemed to be mainly porn with non-porn content creators sticking with Reddit. Although the site was growing exponentially it was not quite as popular as Reddit in its heyday.

“They have a hotwife and cuckold sub-Post area. It’s mostly short videos of FapFans content that creators are leveraging to direct people to their FapFans paid site.”

FapFans was another site that exploded in popularity after OnlyFans went public and had to remove most of its hardcore adult content. More fallout as life started to normalize after the pandemic.

“Donna and I started watching the hotwife videos on PostItt. Most of them are only about a minute long and almost all of them are just advertising for their FapFans page. A couple of days ago, we were looking at one video and I completely freaked out. Scared the shit out of Donna.”

“What was it? What did you see?” Clint asked.

Rather than answer, Terry picked his phone off the table and handed it to Clint. “It’s queued up. Just hit play.”

Clint had a bad feeling. He looked at the screen of Terry’s phone. There was a screenshot with the standard “play” arrow superimposed over it. He could not see much of the woman other than her obviously naked back.

“The sound is turned off,” Terry said. “It’s video only.”

Clint took a deep breath, angled the screen towards the wall and away from the bar, and pressed the play arrow.

The video began with a close-up shot of the woman’s naked back. The video description stated, “My cuck husband cleans me up after my bull’s creampie.” The camera remained stationary but zoomed out to show the action along with a view of the room in which the action was taking place. The woman had a lean, athletic build, and even though her facial features were pixelated; you could tell she had thick, blonde hair worn in a ponytail. She was on her knees on the floor as a well-built black man fucked her from behind as her upper torso rested on the seat of a brown leather sofa. The man fucking the blonde woman tensed as he obviously ejaculated into her. He paused for a second before sliding out of her vagina. His cock was wet and shiny from their combined fluids. As he moved away, a pudgy, pale white guy slid his pixelated face under the blonde’s vagina, timing the move so that the semen leaking from her vagina dripped into his open mouth. He then proceeded to perform oral sex on the woman, licking and sucking the semen out of her. The blonde woman appeared to orgasm and then collapsed onto the brown leather sofa. A sofa that Clint knew well; just as he well knew the blonde and her “husband.”

Clint just stared at Terry’s phone.

“I wasn’t sure how to approach you about this. If you knew about it and were cool with it, I didn’t want to embarrass you. I can tell from your expression that you didn’t know anything about this.”

Clint shook his head. “No, this is...” Clint’s voice trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words.

“Do you know either one of the guys? I didn’t recognize Fallon until the camera zoomed out and I saw the room and the sofa. We’ve had poker night in that room often enough. That’s one sofa I’ll never sit on again,” Terry remarked dryly.

Clint gave Terry a sour look, “I don’t know who the so-called bull is. But the cuck? Yeah, I know the son-of-bitch. His name is Kent and the sorry piece of shit is, make that was, my brother.”

Clint Cartwright first met Fallon Harper when she limped her car into his tire shop with a flat tire.

After graduating from high school, Clint knew that he was not at all prepared for college. He loved working on cars so immediately upon graduation, had started working at a Fastrock tire store as an apprentice mechanic. His intelligence, work ethic, and natural affinity for working with his hands quickly led him to excel at automotive repair. His mentor was an ASE-certified master technician and Clint quickly progressed, following the usual automotive mechanical learning track: brakes and steering and suspension followed by air conditioning and then electrical, finishing up with engine repair while skipping transmissions because fuck transmissions. There was a reason that transmission shops existed and that was because it took a special kind of masochist to want to work on a transmission.

Clint’s parents were not happy with his choice of career. They were constantly on him to follow in the footsteps of his older brother and get a degree. Or two or three or four or however many degrees Kent had by now. An overweight, out-of-shape perpetual student who still lived at home, for some reason, Kent was his mother’s favorite. Clint was tall, athletic, and good-looking while Kent was a gelatinous blob. Yet he was held up as the gold standard. Every interaction with his mother ended up with her haranguing him for not being more like Kent. It was “Kent this” and “Kent that” and “Kent was the best son ever.” After leaving home, Clint kept low to no contact with his family.

So, Clint progressed and within a couple of years had also taken the required ASE tests to receive his Master Technician certificate. By this time, Clint had also decided that he was ready for college, and by the time he received his Master Tech certificate, had also completed his first year of college. His intelligence and hard work impressed his district manager who talked Clint into the management training program. Being a store manager would be a cut in pay for Clint after being a Master Tech, although if he was successful, his bonus would more than makeup for the shortfall in pay.

Clint was wildly successful as a store manager. This was also where he met Fallon. Fallon Harper was a gorgeous blonde. Tall and athletic, she had been a volleyball standout in high school and had received a scholarship to the University of Texas on an athletic scholarship. She was working on a BS in Textiles and Apparel while working for Engstrom’s. The luxury department store chain had offered her an intern position for which she was paid a stipend. She had also discovered that she really liked working at Engstrom’s. Their reputation for providing excellent customer service was unapparelled and was the ideal for which so many businesses strove. Their employee handbook was internationally famous for only consisting of a 3.5”x2” business card on which was printed the phrase

“ALWAYS DO THE RIGHT THING FOR THE CUSTOMER.”

Fallon had decided to stay with Engstrom’s once she received her degree; a decision which she had never once regretted.

She was on her way to work for her first day as a real, permanent employee and not an intern when she had a flat tire. Fortunately, she was only a block away from Clint’s store. She was near tears as she explained her situation to the tall, nice-looking guy with the store manager’s name tag that read “Clint.”

“Okay, first off, don’t panic. We’ll get you there on time. Jimmy will take you to work and we’ll get your tire fixed. If you can’t get a ride after work, we’ll pick you up.”

Fallon was stunned. Although she was used to the excellent customer service provided by Engstrom’s, she was always surprised when other businesses provided a great experience. Clint and his Fastrock store became her repair shop of choice and she never hesitated to recommend him or his store due to his honesty and character.

Clint’s success as a store manager led the regional vice president to talk to him about becoming a district manager. By this time, Clint had earned a degree in Business Analytics with a minor in supply chain logistics from the McCombs School of Business at UT. He had begun work on his MBA when he was promoted to the position of assistant district manager of the Austin district.

On his last day as store manager, Fallon coincidentally appeared for a scheduled appointment for an oil change. Clint introduced Fallon to his replacement and explained to her that he would no longer be working at that store. Fallon became very emotional at this news. She had long been attracted to Clint but had purposely kept herself distant from him. She hated herself for being a snob, but she did not think a tire store manager was someone who would mesh with her dreams and aspirations. Now, faced with the prospect of never seeing him again and realizing that she trusted him implicitly, she had a small internal crisis.

“Have dinner with me,” she said.

Clint was shocked into silence. He had been telling the new store manager the tale of how he had first met Fallon when she interrupted him to ask him out. He just gaped at her.

“Seriously, please go to dinner with me,” Fallon asked, looking at him intently.

And so, they began to date. A year after Clint completed his MBA, the Austin district manager retired and Clint was promoted to that position. Six months later, Clint and Fallon were married.

Clint’s family did not have a big role in his marriage. He had not planned to have his brother participate until his mother literally got down on her knees to beg Clint to give his brother a role. Clint relented and asked his brother to be an usher. Kent sneered at him and made a snide comment about not being good enough to be a groomsman.

Clint said, “You don’t want to be an usher, then don’t be an usher. I’m only asking because Mom asked me to ask you.” Kent accepted the role, mostly to be around Fallon, whom Kent had fallen madly, obsessively in love with.

Fallon, on the other hand, had a great relationship with her parents. Still married and in love with each other after thirty-five years, Howard and Karen Harper were the kind, loving parents that every child needed. They had recently relocated to Franklin Farms, a fifty-five-plus gated, golf community outside of Austin. Howard continued to work, but Karen had retired from her job as a high school English teacher and had developed a passion for pickleball since moving to Franklin Farms.

Shortly after Clint and Fallon married, Fastrock decided to reorganize their districts and regions and do away with the district manager position. The Austin district would be divided into four areas instead of one district and instead of being in charge of all Austin stores, Clint was invited to apply for one of the four area manager positions. Clint decided to test the job market.

Clint received an offer from Fenix Financial in their automotive extended warranty division. Although he did not have experience in the automotive warranty business and had never worked in an office, his automotive mechanical knowledge and his MBA impressed the CEO, Michael Sullivan enough that Clint was offered a position as a claim supervisor in their call center. Six months later he was promoted to claims manager, and nine months after that, to Director of Claims.

In the meantime, Fallon had held the position of manager of Fast Forward Fashion at the Austin Engstrom’s before being promoted to manager of women’s apparel. After that, it was to store operations manager before finally being named as store manager. It was unusual that a store manager had risen through the ranks while staying in one store. Unusual but not unheard of. The Engstrom brothers thought highly of Fallon and promoted her accordingly.

Her home life had gone almost as well. As she had been promoted, so had her husband. They had two children; a daughter named Chloe and then eighteen months later, another daughter that they named Emily. Clint was now a Senior Director at Fenix and Fallon was a vice president, the position for which a store manager was slotted at Engstrom’s. Their combined incomes were over $250,000 per year, not counting bonuses. Although they were both high earners, they also had the house note, car notes, and private school tuition to go along with their positions. Clint had balked at upgrading the house and their vehicles, but Fallon had insisted and as he usually did, he let Fallon have her way. They had not been able to pay down their debt the way he would have liked. Clint had very little student debt when he completed his MBA because he had gone to school nights and weekends while he worked full time. Fallon on the other hand had only worked intern positions while going to school and had racked up substantial college debt. Not to mention the note on her Mercedes plus her sizable Engstrom’s credit card balance. Even with her employee discount, she sometimes could not believe how much she spent on clothes. That was one billing statement she made sure never came to the house.

Through all this, their sex life never faltered. They made love at least five times a week, and some weeks more than that. There was never any indication that Fallon was unhappy or cheating on him.

Clint was in total shock at what his wife was doing in the video. With his brother. And filming it and posting it online! What the actual fuck??? Clint was at a loss.

Terry had gone home, leaving Clint at the bar to ponder his life. He was on his third old-fashioned and would have to take an Uber home. That meant getting up early in the morning and taking an Uber back to Ricardo’s to get his car. Shit.

Clint had made a note of Fallon’s PostItt user name of p/FallenBBCHotwife, which he assumed was a play on her name. As Clint sat at the bar, he opened a PostItt account so that he could view the uploaded videos. There had been twelve videos and thirty-five still photos uploaded to her account. Each video followed the same script. One or two black men would have unprotected sex with Fallon, ejaculate into her, and then his brother Kent would perform oral sex on Fallon, licking out, and then swallowing their semen while pretending to be her cuckolded husband. At no time did Kent have penetrative sex with Fallon. In most of the videos, the user name of the participants was listed as well. A search of their user names on PostItt showed Clint that the same men seemed to go from FapFans user to FapFans user, acting as a “bull” for them. Each PostItt page directed the viewer to a FapFans page for the women where they would advertise themselves as “hotwife” who enjoyed cuckolding their husbands. It appeared to be some sort of sick circuit, Clint thought. The same twelve to fifteen women with their own FapFan’s page having sex with the same half-dozen or so African-American men. To Clint, it was obviously an adult, pornographic version of what the British called a pantomime. A staged presentation designed to fool no one and everyone; the roles specifically defined and the actors playing their part in the production; the “hotwife,” the “cuck” and the “bull(s).” Clint shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

In many cases, the “hotwives” had posted their FapFansmembership fees, usually between $5-$10 per month. Clint was not a consumer of internet porn, but it had become such a prevalent topic in society that you would have to live in a cave not to know what was going on. If a woman could get one thousand monthly subscribers who were willing to pay $10 a month for her content, she could earn $120,000 a year for very little work, minus whatever she had to kick back to FapFans. Clint also was aware that black men had been fetishized for their supposed penis size and that content with them was highly sought after. Fallon had posted her FapFans monthly fee at $12.99 per month plus extras such as used underwear for sale. Clint wondered how many subscribers she had and where the money was going.

As he tried to get a handle on his life and his emotions, he had a sudden thought: Thursdays! Thursday was Fallon’s normal day off. For the last two- or three months Fallon had not wanted to make love on Thursday night. She had told Clint that she was tired from catching up on household chores but he now knew better.

Today was Monday which gave Clint three days to develop an action plan.

Clint’s excuse to Fallon for having too much to drink and coming home in an Uber was that Terry was having marital problems and needed a shoulder to cry on. Fallon and Brenda Cobb, Terry’s wife, were not close so Fallon would not reach out to Brenda to talk. Being intoxicated also provided Clint with an excuse for not having sex with Fallon. The next night, Tuesday was Fallon’s late night at Engstrom’s so that just left Wednesday night for Clint to plan how not to have sex with his wife.

Clint had developed a mental checklist of things he needed to do. The obvious first item on the list was to get tested for STIs. Perhaps more than any other aspect of what Clint was going through, this is what angered him the most. The fact that his wife, the wife he loved and cherished above all others, was putting his life at risk by having unprotected sex with strangers and then having sex with him. For that alone, he wanted to divorce her.

And as for his brother? That slimy shit bag was in for a hurting, both physically and emotionally.

Tuesday morning, Clint sent a Teams message to Michael Sullivan, the CEO of Fenix Financial. Michael was the person who had taken a chance by hiring Clint for a position in which he had no experience. Clint also knew that Michael had divorced his wife before he moved from Chicago to Austin. He did not know the details, but he had heard that his wife had done some pretty bad things and there was a video out there.

Clint told Michael everything he knew, which was not much. He had the video and a suspicion that things were happening on Thursdays. His plan was to figure out a way to anonymously sign up for Fallon’s FapFans page to get an idea of the full picture of how bad things were.

“No,” Michael said. “If you’re dead set on divorce, let your attorney handle that. They’ll have better resources than you. Speaking of which; do you have an attorney yet?”

“I don’t,” Clint said. “I know your wife works at a law firm; do they handle divorces?”

“Bonham, McLeod, Garcia has every type of attorney that you can think of. They’re the oldest and best law firm in Texas. They’re our corporate attorneys and my wife, Darejan is head of their family law division. Let me give her a call and I’ll let you know when she can see you. Until you can get out of this situation, you’re exempt from all staff meetings. You let me know what you need from me. If you need time off; take it. If you need to leave suddenly; do it. Fenix will support you every step of the way. I’ve been where you are and I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

As it happened, Darejan Sullivan could see Clint after lunch.

The law offices of Bonham, McLeod, and Garcia were unpretentious, unassuming, and understated; as real wealth and power often is. The carpeting was plush, the paneling dark. Everyone that Clint encountered seemed to have a purpose. No one was hanging around the water cooler chatting or killing time. Everyone seemed to be focused on their job, but there also seemed to be a feeling of ... Clint was stuck for a minute ... maybe fulfillment in their work. This seemed like a great place to work, unlike the horror stories he had heard from friends who had gone to work for large law firms that ended up being meat grinders.

Clint took the elevator to the third floor and was directed to the family law division. Darejan Sullivan was not what Clint was expecting. Tall, willowy, and obviously of Middle Eastern descent, Clint knew that she was Michael’s second wife and together they were raising their adopted daughter. She could have walked a runway in any fashion show in the world if not for the thin scar that started just below the hairline on the right side of her face and ran downward, paralleling her ear and ending just above her right jawline. Clint figured there was a story there and maybe one day he would hear it.

After introductions, Darejan jumped right into the reason for Clint’s visit.

“Mike gave me the broad brushstrokes of your problems. Why don’t you give me all the details.”

Clint spent the next fifteen minutes telling Darejan everything he knew. He also provided Darejan with Fallon’s PostItt user name as well as her FapFans user name.

“We’ll sign up for her FapFans account and download everything from the site as well as everything on PostItt. Adultery is a slam duck. Texas is a conservative state, but it is still a no-fault state. I can almost guarantee you no spousal support or maintenance. Are you wanting to contest child support?” Darejan had a neutral expression on her face when she asked the question, but Clint knew instinctively that there was only one correct answer.

“No, definitely not. Our daughters are in school and then in an afternoon program Monday through Wednesday and Friday. I watch them on Saturday and we are both off on Sunday. Fallon is off on Thursday so that’s her day to watch the girls. That means that they are home alone upstairs for part of the time that she is doing...” Clint waved his hand in the direction of Darejan’s computer.

“What I want is 100% custody. I don’t want my girls raised in that environment. She’s not a fit mother.”

Darejan nodded and smiled. That was the correct answer. “Even with her face pixelated, this is a slam dunk. I can file within the next 48 hours and have her served next week. How do you want to play this? Have her served at home or at work?”

“Every Friday morning, she has a weekend kick-off staff meeting at 9:00 AM. I want her served right before that meeting. She has embarrassed and shamed me. I want her to get a taste of what I am feeling.”

“We can make that happen. We will of course demand a full accounting of all money earned through her outside activities Those are considered marital assets just like your paycheck or her paycheck.” Darejan steepled her hands together and rested her chin upon them, looking Clint in the eye.

“What about your brother? What do you want to do about him?”

“Can I sue him for alienation of affection?”

Darejan shook her head, “Not in Texas. There is no provision for AOA lawsuits as there are in some states like North Carolina. You can, however, sue him for Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress. That’s been on the books in Texas since 1993. We have to prove that it was intentional, it was extreme or outrageous, it caused you actual severe emotional distress, and that it actually damaged you, your marriage, or both.”

Clint nodded his head. “I want to destroy him. I want him to wake up every day hating our mother for not aborting him.”

The girls were fast asleep and Clint was in bed pretending to be asleep when Fallon arrived home Tuesday night so he was not forced to fake normalcy and hide the feelings of revulsion he felt towards his wife.

Wednesday morning, Clint left for work before Fallon so he did not have to see her. Wednesday afternoon he sent her a text:

Clint: Hi babe. Working dinner with M.S. Home ~11

Fallon: damn! No :o 2nite?

Clint: sorry, bae!

With both Wednesday and Thursday handled, Clint could concentrate on avoiding sex with Fallon on Friday and the weekend.

Clint was not able to avoid having sex with Fallon that weekend or for most of the next week. He did not initiate but did not turn Fallon down when she did. Even though he was repulsed by her, there was no doubt she was a sexy woman. By far the sexiest woman that he had ever been with. Or ever would be he feared.

Wednesday morning found Clint sticking his head into the office of his CEO.

“Morning, Mike. Do you have a minute?”

“I have a meeting in fifteen minutes but other than that I’m free. Have a seat. What’s up with the divorce?”

“She’s going to be served on Friday morning so I’m taking that day off. I’m taking my daughters to the Kemah Boardwalk for a couple of days then I’m going to find someplace to live for a while. Maybe one of those guest suites or long-term stay places.”

“Bullshit,” Michael said. He pulled a keyring out of the belly drawer of his desk and handed it to Clint. “This is the key to a condo Fenix owns. I’ll send the address and access codes to your cell. It’s yours for as long as you need it. That’ll give you some breathing room to concentrate on taking care of yourself and your girls and doing what you need to do to manage your divorce.”