Chapter 2

The next morning, dressed a warm up that Lyle thoughtfully provided, I sat at the breakfast table with Lyle and Millie. Our conversation was stilted and broken by periods of silence. Finally Lyle arose and motioned me into the den. Millie followed.

"Dave, it's time to have a talk," Lyle began.

I interrupted him. "Lyle, I am totally screwed up, but I do know that what occurred last night was not rape. Where did you come up with that? I kept my mouth shut all evening, partly because my head was totally screwed up and partly because I didn't want to confuse the police with any conflicting testimony, but Shelly wasn't raped. She participated willingly - even eagerly. She just couldn't wait to rub my nose in it, as you heard in that tape," I ended bitterly.

Lyle waved my objections away. "Look, David. Just be quiet a moment and listen. The definition of rape varies from place to place and yes, I do claim that Shelly was raped by Fallow. In this state rape can be defined as sexual assault upon another person who is mentally or psychologically defective.

"We can maintain, and successfully I believe, that Fallow created a climate which led to Shelly's mental breakdown and made her a participant in the act through mental and psychological coercion. In fact the perpetrator can be charged if it is determined that he impaired the victim's judgement in some manner. That certainly would be applicable in this case. Look, David - Shelly was already psychologically predisposed, due to her history with her father and ex-husband, to believe that bastard's lies.

"I've already spoken with an assistant DA that I know and we both believe that there is sound foundation for such charges. He will be speaking with his boss and I strongly suspect that Fallow will be arrested first thing Monday morning. It's obvious that the tape you made will be the critical factor in this case."

"Good, I'm glad. I hope that they castrate the bastard," Millie interjected.

I sat there and mulled over what Lyle had said. I didn't believe one word about Shelly's judgement being impaired - she was just too perceptive and intelligent a person to be pulled into Fallow's crap. She did what she did because that's what she wanted to do, but I kept my own council, especially since I wanted Fallow to be, as Millie so elegantly put it, castrated.

"Ok, Lyle. I hope that these charges stick and I hope that this asst. DA is good. At the very least, the bastard's marriage will be toast, at least I hope so and I doubt that he'll stay in his job after this."

Millie then broke in. "David, Shelly is still in the hospital. Do you want me to go with you to see her? Don't forget, she's still your wife."

"Millie, thanks for asking, but I really am in no condition to see her at the present time. I would encourage you to go, of course, but I think that it would be best if I just went home now. I need some time to get my thoughts in order and I need to try to come to some conclusions and make some, at least tentative, decisions as what to do. I don't think I would be able to be of much help to her right now."

I could see the disappointment and disapproval in their eyes, but the bullshit I just tossed their way did contain a modicum of truth. I really did need to make some decisions, although I pretty well knew what they would be, and I did need to be alone. Lyle gave me a hug and a pat on the back and Millie kissed my cheek as they bid me goodby.

By the end of the day I had come to some conclusions. My thinking hadn't changed much, I still thought that the whole rape thing was a crock of horse manure. It was obvious to me that while Shelly may have been influenced by that asshole, she entered into that sexual romp with enthusiasm and an unholy delight to humiliate me. Fuck her. I knew then that I never really knew her, I had accepted the facade she wore all years we were together. I wondered how many men she had fucked during out marriage.

I know, I know. I was feeling really sorry for myself, but I'm pretty sure that not many guys had gone through the humiliation that I was subject to recently. How many schmucks were tied down and forced to witness their wife's adultery. How many guys had to live out an erotic story horror. A spouse doesn't just come up with an idea like that on the spur of the moment. She must have been at least thinking about it for a hell of a long time. Was this a fantasy of her own? Did she get off when she imagined it? Was it that much of an erotic experience for her?

My mind then flashed to her condition after I had finally freed myself. She appeared to be devastated. I remembered the deep, wrenching sobs as she lay curled up into a ball on the bed. I forced those thoughts away. I didn't know what she was feeling or if even her sobs were real. I just didn't know this women and right now, I didn't want to. I just wanted it over with. I wanted a divorce - and I also wanted to kill Fallow, but I wasn't that nutty yet. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life being Bubba's bitch.

I spent the rest of the weekend puttering around the apartment. I rearranged some stuff and painted the living room. I kept myself busy. I also put on some sweats and went out and jogged until I couldn't catch my breath - the sweat pouring off of me in what seemed like buckets. I showered and pulled on a polo and a lightweight pair of slacks. I also realized that I had better start thinking about dinner which was a laugh. I didn't have much in the fridge.

As I was about to leave the apartment, I was startled to hear the doorbell. I stood still for a moment, wondering who the hell that could be. Only one way to find out, I said to myself as I opened the door.

"Ok, David. Close your mouth - you're gawking," Susan smiled as she pushed me aside and walked in. Looking around she muttered, "Jeez, what a dump."

Dr. Susan Garcia, Associate Professor of Economics was a colleague who taught at the same institution of higher learning as I. She was smart as hell and she didn't suffer fools gladly. She also was a gorgeous creature, tall, dark hair and eyes and a body to make your mouth water. She was also a confirmed lesbian. We had been friends for years and Shelly and I had entertained her in our home countless times.

She plopped herself down in a chair in my "living room" and I averted my eyes as I saw the flash of her thighs when she crossed her legs. She noticed that and smiled evilly. "Ok,, David. Enough bullshit, what's going on? I can't believe that your marriage is in trouble. You and Shelly were the happiest couple I have ever seen. No, no, don't get pissed. I'm not a stranger off the street, I'm a friend and I'm damned concerned."

She waited expectantly, with a hard glint in her eye. I knew that it would be difficult for me to avoid talking to her. I just sighed, took a seat across from her and let it all out. I gave her chapter and verse, starting months ago when everything seemed to start turning to shit up to the incident with Shelly and Fallow. It was kind of cathartic for me. For some reason I felt better, as if some weight had been taken from my shoulders.

Susan just sat, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. "Holy shit," she breathed. "This is all true?" She then shook her head. "Stupid question, sorry about that. I'm just totally astounded. You know, that thing about tying you down and making you watch sounds like something out of a dirty story that I read years ago," she mused.

Sonofabitch, it looked like my life was turning into a dirty story. Susan saw me blush and she colored a bit herself. She then smiled ruefully. "Sorry, David. The whole thing sounds so surreal, sorry about the dirty story remark. Look, you haven't eaten, let's go grab a bite somewhere and talk." She gathered herself together, grabbed my arm and almost forced me out of the apartment. I felt exhausted and didn't put up much of a struggle.

We sat, shared and demolished a large lasagna along with a loaf of warm garlic bread. I didn't realize how hungry I was - I wolfed down a huge portion of the meal. Susan sat and gazed at me, a look of sympathy on her face. "What are you going to do, David? You're in the middle of a huge mess; you have to make some decisions about what you're going to do."

I shook my head. "Not now, Susan. I'm too screwed up. Lyle is pressing the DA to charge Fallow for rape and I think that he'll be picked up tomorrow. Rape, what a crock. You should have seen her, it was almost as if she raped HIM." I sneered.

"I'm going to take it one day at a time. Right now all I want is to be out of it. Too much has happened, I need time to think, to consider what to do."

Susan nodded. "Okay, David. You're probably right. Look, let's be realistic - you need to take some time off. Why not call Charles and get some emergency leave. He can get someone to fill in for you and it will give you the time you need."

"Not a bad idea," I thought to myself. "Thanks, Sue, I think I'll do just that. I won't be worth a plugged nickle in the classroom for awhile. Charles will understand, he'll work it out." Charles Denning was head of the department and a friend. I didn't have any worries about his cooperation. We walked back to my place and Susan pecked me on the mouth and patted my back, telling me to take care of myself.

The next morning I called Charles and after a rather long conversation he agreed to cover for me. There really wasn't that much time left until the end of the semester anyway - it wouldn't be a major problem.

It was late in the morning when Lyle called. He informed me that Fallow had been picked up and charged with rape. I didn't sound too thrilled with this and I'm sure that Lyle understood my lack of enthusiasm. He knew how I felt. I doubted that the charge would stick, but I also knew that this would destroy Fallow professionally and, I hoped, also destroy his marriage. I was content to wait and see.

"David," Lyle continued. "I also called and was able to see Frank Berman, the executive Vice President at corporate."

I knew that Lyle was referring to the corporate headquarters of the group that owned and operated the hotel where Shelly worked as well as others throughout the country. Their corporate headquarters was conveniently located not far from the hotel itself.

"We had an interesting and productive conversation," Lyle continued. "Frank was anxious as hell to avoid any lawsuit or scandal involving the hotel's involvement in this mess. We were able to come to a mutual understanding. Shelly's salary will be paid into her checking account until she is fully recovered, regardless of when that may be. He understands that it may take years. He also agreed to cover all of the medical expenses she incurs, with no time limit. Her attending physicians will make the final determination as to any timeline. Oh, and, of course, Robert Fallow is no longer in their employ. There is a moral clause in the standard contract."

Lyle paused and waited a few seconds for me to respond. "David, do you understand what I'm telling you? Please, say something."

I discovered that my mind had been drifting. I gathered myself together and managed to reply. "Okay, Lyle. I understand. Please forgive me, I'm in a bit of a fog. I do understand what you've done and thanks, Lyle. I really do appreciate everything you're doing. Really. I'm sure that Shelly will also."

Lyle hesitated. I sensed that he was concerned. "David, it might be a good idea if you came and spent some time with Millie and myself. I really don't think it a good idea for you to be alone right now. You need family around you. Look, at least consider it. Give my suggestion some thought. You know that Millie would be so thrilled if she could mother you a little. Promise you will think about it."

I assured him that I would and we ended the conversation. I knew that I wouldn't move in with them. I needed time alone. I was completely fucked up, I knew that. I needed time alone and in a new and different setting. I needed to get away. I then started to make plans to do just that.

Fate has a way to screw up plans. I got a call the next day from the DA's office. I was to come down and speak with a Mr. Hal Burns. It was made pretty clear that my visit was mandatory.

"Dr. Lannister, thank you for coming in. Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable," a smiling and affable middle aged man waved his hand. Yeah, thank you for coming in - like I had a choice. Mr. Burns saw my discomfort and quickly got down to business.

"Dr. Lannister. I've been informed that you have doubts concerning the charges against Mr. Fallow. Please be advised that the charge of rape is valid, in my opinion. Mrs. Lannister was definitely impaired and not able to make sensible decisions. Her present medical condition testifies to that. The problem, as I see it, is to get a jury to go along with that. Who the hell knows what a jury thinks. We'll just make the best case we can and then let the jury decide. Do you understand?" "Yeah, I understand, Mr. Burns. I'm not sure if the charge will stick, but I'll certainly support it and the testimony I give will support it. Do your damnedest, I would love to see that bastard destroyed. Win or lose I'm sure that he is suffering."

We chatted for a few more minutes and he instructed me to stay available - no out of town jaunts. Shit, was he reading my mind? I shrugged and agreed. With a firm handshake, I turned and left his office.

Arriving "home" (my little apartment that is), I saw the message light on the answering machine flashing and I pressed the play button:

"David, this is Susan. Connie is making her Hungarian goulash. Get your ass over here around 6. No, no excuses. We'll be expecting you so don't be late. Oh, almost forgot - bring a few bottles of a decent Merlot"

I stood by the phone for a bit wondering if I wanted to go. I really didn't feel like socializing, I had a lot on my mind. Suddenly I realized that all I had on my mind was the horror that had befallen me. My marriage was shit, over, ended. My "loving wife" was in the hospital, for what reason I wasn't really sure and I really didn't know what tomorrow was going to bring. I began to realize that there really wasn't a lot that I could do right now. I had to "go with the flow" so to speak - take one day at a time. With that realization I suddenly relaxed and let some of the tension drain from me. I would let circumstances dictate my reactions for a bit. Let's see how all of this played out. I just needed time.

Oops, Susan and Connie; should I accept the invitation? Connie was a fun person, full of personality and bubbling good humor. She was Susan's age, around late 30s or early 40s, blond and a bit shorter than Susan, but built just as well. She was an MD in Neurology with an office in center city and divorced. They had a beautiful condo on a high floor in a ritzy building not far from the action of center city. I was there once and marveled at how tastefully they had decorated the place. Ah, shit, why not. I've got to make sure I don't forget the wine. Just then the phone rang, startling me. I picked it up and said, "Hello,"