Man in the Box

by StangStar06

Copyright© 2013 by StangStar06

Incest Sex Story: He stole my wife and left me buried alive...

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Cheating   Incest   Sister   Violent   .

Hi folks. We haven't taken a trip to the dark side in a while. Those of you wh don't like violence or extreme revenge might want to pass on this one. Thanks twice as much as usual to Mikotthebaby who served as my muse on this one besides doing her usual editing magic.

Note from mikothebaby – Man in the Box by Alice in Chains is my favorite song. I urge you to go to you tube and listen to it before reading this story. I made Stang write a story about the song. I wanted a dark story so blame me and not him if you do not like this one. He indulges my ideas every once in a while. I personally love this story.

"You're going to love it here," I told my girlfriend, Heidi, as we got off of the plane and walked to the concourse. "We'll probably have to take a cab to get to the house. I emailed my parents a couple of times this week but I didn't get an answer. They might even be out of town which would give us plenty of time to..."

I never had a chance to complete my thought. A huge guy in a Sheriff's Department uniform stepped in front of me. Before he even spoke to me, he looked over his shoulder and spoke to another deputy and the guy from airport security. "This is him. Get his bags and bring them to the Station." He looked over at me and at Heidi. "What's your name Miss?" he asked, pulling his sunglasses down.

"Uhm Heidi," she said. "Heidi Temple. Are we in trouble? What did we do? Are we being arrested? It was him ... He was the one who wanted us to have sex in his parents' house. I was..."

The deputy pushed his glasses back into place and shook his head. "Rick," he said. "If you do end up married to this one ... either don't do anything illegal, or don't tell her. At the first sign of trouble, she'll bail on you and spill her guts."

He escorted the two of us outside to a waiting Sheriff's Department Jeep. We got in and waited for a few minutes as they loaded our luggage.

He spoke to another man that I recognized, who got into the driver's seat. "Hi Uncle John," I said.

"Hey Rick," he said back. He turned to face us and looked at Heidi. She paled quickly and then looked at me.

"Your Uncle is the frigging Sheriff?" she asked.

"And it's a good thing too," said Uncle John. "We found the bag of weed in your luggage, miss."

"It's not mine," she blurted out. "I was just holding it for a friend. And I kind of have a Marijuana license. You know I have a card for it ... sort of. I get these headaches when my glaucoma acts up during my period and..."

"Just shut up," he said to her. "We're not going to press charges. We're pretty relaxed about things like that around here ... At least until you start lying to us and acting like we're stupid. Next time you decide to lie to a law enforcement officer though, you should probably try to find one lie and stick to it."

He turned to me. "Rick you sure can pick 'em. She reminds me of your mother when she was young."

Heidi smiled broadly. "Thank you," she said.

"I never could stand that bitch, even when she was young. She was just too God damned sneaky. And she's nuttier than a tree full of squirrels."

"Uncle Rick," I said, changing the subject. "Where are my parents anyway, I haven't heard from them and..."

"You'll understand all of that soon," he said. "To tell you the truth, I'm just the messenger. I have no idea where your father or your mother are, but if you come into contact with them, please tell me. Officially, your mother is wanted in connection with several crimes and your father may be linked to them somehow as well."

I was shocked and Heidi just looked at me as if she, like I, was wondering exactly what the fuck we'd gotten ourselves into.

Uncle Rick drove the car for a couple of miles and then stopped in the middle of nowhere. "Get out," he said. As soon as we got out of the Jeep, he pulled our luggage out of the back of the truck and placed it on the side of the road.

"Uncle Rick, the house is nowhere near here," I said.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "See ya." He got back in his jeep and drove off. So there I was, in the middle of nowhere, standing by the side of the road with far more suitcases than I could carry. Heidi had that deer in the headlights expression on her face.

"I can't believe they took my weed," she said. "To truly appreciate a situation like this, you should really be high. This is like something out of the twilight zone. All we need now is to have a couple of guys drive up and take us prisoner. They'll probably kill me and spend the next three days butt-fucking you with a variety of farm implements."

"Heidi, wouldn't they kill me and fuck you?" I asked.

"They aren't normal dudes," she said. "That's what makes it so weird..."

Thankfully, before Heidi could complete her theory, I heard a car coming in our direction. It turned out to be a Cadillac Escalade. The driver must not have seen us because he passed by us and then slammed on the brakes and backed up until he was right in front of us. I stood up ready to fight or flee as the case dictated it. The windows of the truck were tinted so I couldn't see how many guys were inside of it. As the door opened, I started stretching my legs. I stopped and my jaw dropped open when the driver came around the side of the truck.

"You ARE Rick aren't you?" she asked. "Yep, you are. You have your father's eyes and lot of his other features too."

I was stunned. The woman asking me the question was hot. She had long inky black hair pulled up into a ponytail. She wore sunglasses that she pulled down to look at me and showed off the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. Her deep tan indicated that she was used to a climate that was far warmer than Michigan. And the way she was bundled up still even though it was spring, told me that she hadn't been away from there for very long.

She was whippet thin, but the swellings in the front of her expensive looking leather jacket told me that some of her proportions were not typical for a woman of her size. Her ass was rounded and looked big on her, although on an average sized woman it would have seemed tiny. The jeans that she wore looked as if they were painted on. She walked in ankle boots that had to have five inch heels at the very least. Without them, she'd be nowhere close to Heidi's 5'6" inch height.

She pressed a button and the back of the Escalade opened. "Who's she?" she asked pointedly.

"Who're you?" asked Heidi.

"We didn't plan on you," she said. "I'll have to make a call." The woman pulled out a phone from somewhere. Her clothes were so tight that I couldn't imagine where she'd hid it. It was an iPhone. And something about it just seemed familiar to me.

Heidi was tapping me on the shoulder as I watched the woman make her call. "Who the hell is this bimbo?" she asked. "And why the hell were you doing all of that stretching back there?"

"Heidi, I had no idea of what was going to come out of that truck," I said. "It could have been a team of drug crazed hillbillies or a team of pit bulls or a maniac with an axe."

"And you were getting ready to go all Bruce Lee on them and fight for me?" she said smiling.

"I was getting ready to run," I said.

"You're wearing cowboy boots Dufus," she said. "How were you going to outrun them in those?"

"I didn't have to outrun THEM," I said. "I just had to outrun YOU."

The look Heidi gave me told me that no matter where we ended up, I'd probably be sleeping alone.

"Give me your phones," said the woman, holding out her hands. "And anything else you have that is electronic."

I handed her my phone and smiled.

"Fuck no," said Heidi. The woman handed my phone to Heidi.

"Why are you giving me his phone?" asked Heidi.

"You're not going," said the woman. "You can give it back to him when you see him again." She turned to me.

"Rick, grab anything you'll need for the next two days and put it in the back of the truck." She watched me as I moved. "Make sure there are no electronics in any bag you bring." I moved to comply with her wishes. Something told me I should do what she said.

"What about me," whined Heidi.

"You're staying here," said the woman. Her pleasant tone indicated that she was far happier about Heidi not coming with us. "As soon as we pull off, I'll call John and someone from the Sheriff's office will come and pick you up.

"You're just going to go off with this woman?" asked Heidi. "You don't even know who she is."

I just shrugged my shoulders. "Okay fine," said Heidi. "Take the God damned phone. And you..." she said whining at me. "You're falling right into their trap. Haven't you seen this enough times in the fucking movies? Usually they take you to a place where your cell phone doesn't have any bars so you can't call for help. Then, once they get you up to some creepy assed farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, all of your friends start dying off one by one. First, it'll be the black guy, then the teenagers who get caught fucking, then the fat nerdy guy and after that the bitchy girl..."

I was embarrassed. "Heidi, we don't have a black guy with us or a fat nerdy guy..." I began.

"We know who the bitchy girl is though," the woman laughed. She pulled out a plastic bag and placed both of our phones in them and walked off beside the road. She put our phones down by a tree and walked back smiling. She pulled out her iPhone again and did something on it. Then she took a picture of the tree.

"I used my GPS app and placed a pin on this location," she said. "We'll be able to find your phones easily tomorrow. And we're not going to a creepy old farm house."

We got into the Escalade and drove for about an hour. When we pulled up, we were in front of some kind of luxury Casino/Hotel. There were all kinds of people milling around. She pulled out her phone and tapped it once. Obviously, someone important was on speed dial.

"We're here," she said. "And I have a surprise for you. He brought a girlfriend. How the hell do I know? Uhm, she kind of reminds me of his mother." Then she laughed and looked at us.

"Oh no," she said. "Not me, I'm way too old to be babysitting, beside I'm supposed to be with you, forever, remember? ... Oh alright, but you're going to have to make this up to me." She looked over at us and dropped her voice lower.

"Hell no, I'm not going to be on top. You're the one doing the making up. I'm just going to lie there and let you ravish me and..." She looked at us and could see that we could still hear her. She turned redder than I thought possible with her tanned skin.

"Uhm Rick," she said. "You just stay right here. I'll see you later, honey. Come on Miss Sunshine. You and I are going shopping and we'll probably have lunch first."

"But I wanna stay with Rick," whined Heidi. "Did, you say shopping?" she asked. "Am I using my money or someone else's?"

"We're buying," said the woman.

"Let's go," said Heidi. "See you later Rick." As they walked away, I heard her telling the woman that she wanted a leather jacket and some tight assed jeans and stripper shoes."

"She's a piece of ... something," said a voice close to me. I turned to see who'd said it but I already knew who it was.

The man standing beside me had short close cropped hair that was starting to have a few threads of gray mixed in with the brown. His brown eyes had an intensity that was hard to look away from. He had a two day beard growth and a deeper tan than I remembered. The smile that played at the corners of his lips was different too. He held his arms open and I walked into them, the way I'd always done. He hugged me. None of that handshake shit for us. And when he hugged me, somehow it felt like he'd gotten far stronger since I last saw him and that had been only about four months ago for Christmas break.

The shorter hair style and the clothes made him seem almost as if he was a different person. He seemed tougher and stronger but there was something missing though. I think it was the worry, or maybe the doubts. The man standing in front of me didn't seem to have a care in the world. He wasn't worried about where the next car payment or house payment would come from or any of that other trivial bullshit that had always plagued him even when he had money in the bank. He seemed like the kind of guy who was ready to grab life in both hands and drink it in.

"Hey Dad," I said. "What the hell is going on?" Then I shook my head. "You seem happier..."

"Oh, so you've met your stepmother?" he smirked. My mouth dropped open.

"She's hot," I said. Then I looked at him. "Did you say step MOTHER or SISTER?"

"Yeah, I know," he smirked.

"Dad, she's..." I began.

"Twenty six," he finished.

"Dad, I'm twenty four," I spat. "What the hell is wrong with you? Is this some kind of mid-life crisis? What does Mom think?"

"Hang on," he said. "I have lunch waiting in the room. We'll talk while we eat."


As we walked into the suite, I could tell that my son was a little bit shocked. We walked over to the table and I gestured for him to sit down. He looked around the room. Besides the beautiful décor, the thing that was probably the most notable about the room was the fact that our suitcases were still packed. We lived out of the suitcases so we were always ready to leave in a heartbeat.

"Dad, where is Mom?" he asked.

"I don't know exactly," I said. "But she's happy and doing what she loves most."

"So is she gardening or shopping?" he asked smiling. "And what does Uncle John mean when he said she was a suspect in a crime?"

"Maybe I'd better start from the beginning," I said. "The last time I saw you, was just after Christmas. I drove you to the airport so you could go back to school, remember?" He nodded his head.

"On my way back from the airport, I stopped at the Seven Eleven and bought a lottery ticket like I always do. There was a new girl working there. She was really pretty. Her name tag said Jenni. What I didn't like about her was that she had a bunch of fucking tattoos all over her. One or two small ones isn't really bad but shit, she even had a tat on her fucking neck. I figured she'd be working at a Seven Eleven for the rest of her life. What a waste. Putting tattoos on a woman that beautiful is like smearing a turd on the Mona Lisa.

Anyway, I bought my ticket and thanked her and she just looked at me and smiled. She seemed to be kind of timid which is unusual for someone that pretty. Usually, the hot women have all kinds of confidence because all they hear from people is how hot they are.

I told her that if I won, I'd come back and buy her something nice. She told me that everyone always said that but no one ever really did it.

When I got home, I heard your mother talking on the phone. She was telling someone that she'd see them the next day. "I'll drop by while he's at work," she said. "He'll never know so it won't be an issue."

For some reason, that just stood out to me. It's funny, but when you've lived with someone and loved them for a very long time, you can just sense things. Your mom and I had been together for twenty five years. So I knew that whatever she was whispering about wasn't something I would like.

So I walked into the room and she quickly hung the phone up. She got ready to walk out of the room. She looked really guilty so I asked her who she'd been talking to.

"A friend," she said.

"Do I know this friend?" I asked.

"No," she said. She couldn't look me in the eye.

"So is this friend a man?" I asked.

"Mark, Honey, we need to talk," she said.

"So talk," I said. But I already knew what she was going to say. The bitch had been cheating on me. I could tell by the way she couldn't even look at me. I could also tell that she'd stopped or at least slowed down during the time that you were home for Christmas, but she was ready to ramp it back up now that you were gone."

"Mark, I'm going through something," she began. "It has nothing to do with us or at least nothing to do with you but I've reached an age ... Well Honey, we're almost fifty and..."

"And this is the time when some people our age go out and do stupid shit," I said. "Like when George bought that used Ferrari last year and couldn't afford the payments on his house so he lost IT and the car. And Elaine divorced him when she found out that he'd been fucking women he met because of the car. So now Elaine lives with her mother and George lives in a fucking homeless shelter because the alimony he pays Elaine doesn't leave him enough money to rent an apartment."

"Elaine is miserable and spends most of her time taking care of her mother and remembering the life she and George planned. George is a charter member of the tuna of the month club. Every few weeks he gets a can of tuna from some odd assed place in the world. I hear the tuna with peanut butter was really good."

"Mark, it's just something I wanted to try for a while and then things will get back to normal and..." she began.

"Did you fuck him?" I asked.

"Well Mark, maybe you can find someone to..." she said, while the look in her eyes clearly told me that she didn't think I'd be able to find anyone.

"Answer my God damned question, Stella," I spat.

"No ... I mean yes, but it doesn't..." she said.

I walked over to the door and opened it. "Get the fuck out of my house, now," I said.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened. "But Mark, it's not that serious. It's just something that I needed for a..."

"Did I stutter?" I asked. "Was I speaking Pacmanistani? Get the fuck out of my house, now."

"But Mark," she said again.

"If you say, but Mark, one more God damned time, I'll slap the shit out of you," I said.

"B..."she let out before she caught herself. "I'll pack a bag and get my car," she said with her eyes tearing up. "I'll leave you alone for a couple of days and then call you from my sister's house."

"First off, the car you're talking about is staying here," I said. "I bought it for my wife and it's in my name. So is the insurance on it. Let the guy you're fucking buy you a car. Since we got together, you haven't ever worked a fucking day in your life. So get your ass out of here, now."

As she just stood there looking at me in shock, I crossed the room and stepped around her. I grabbed her purse and took out the Samsung smart phone I'd just bought her. I also removed the car keys, the house keys and the garage remote and keys. I handed the purse to her and she tried to reach out to hug me.

"Mark, I don't love him. I only love you," she cried. "We can work this out if you're willing to be reasonable. We've been together for too long to let..."

"Stella, if you try to touch me again, I'll call the police and have you charged with assault and get a restraining order against you. That will help my side in the divorce."

"What divorce?" she screamed. "Are you out of your fucking mind? What will all of our friends think?"

"They'll think that you're a cheating whore and I refuse to live with one," I said. "Now get to walking."

"By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for me to come back," she hissed. "Fuck you."

"Not on a bet," I said. "I don't stick my dick into women who fuck around."

She slowly walked past me. "When you come to your senses, you know where to call me," she said.

"When you come to yours, we'll already be divorced," I told her.

It was too late for me to call a lawyer, so I did the next best thing. I started drinking. It must've been three hours later when the phone rang. I wasn't completely drunk but I was on the way.

"Mark, what the hell is wrong with you?" said the caller. "This isn't like you at all. You're the nicest guy I know. Normally, I'm the one who usually thinks that you're spoiling my sister. I've always thought you were killing her with kindness and..."

"That's been my problem all the time," I said. "I've been using the wrong tool. Instead of killing her with kindness, I should have been using a baseball bat..."

"Mark, are you drunk?" asked Ella, Stella's sister.

"Ella, I've been drinking," I said. "But I'm not drunk. I think that it's the appropriate reaction to being told by the women you've been married to for twenty five years that she's cheating on you..."

"What?" screamed Ella. "She's doing what? I'll call you back." Ella was so pissed that she dropped the phone on the floor.

"Get the fuck out of my house," I heard her scream in the background. There was a bunch of rustling and rumbling as if two people were wrestling. "Get your lying, skanky ass out of here," screamed Ella. "Do you even remember why I divorced Brian? He cheated on ME, you dumb bitch. I, more than anyone else, remember what that feels like. Why the fuck would I help someone do that to someone else."

"But I'm your sister," whined Stella.

"That didn't mean shit to you when you were lying to me a few minutes ago did it?" asked Ella. "Why is "we're sisters" supposed to mean something to me, when it didn't mean anything to you? You just looked me in the eye and lied to me? I don't want all of my friends thinking that I supported a cheater. That would just make me a whore by association, good bye."

After that, I heard a door slam and I was too drunk to follow things after that. I woke up the next morning feeling awful. I had the headache to end all headaches. I took a shower and made the world's worst coffee. I went into work and spent that day doing some cheating myself. No, I didn't fuck my secretary, but I robbed the company of all the work I could have been doing while I called and retained a lawyer. I also canceled all of Stella's credit cards and drained our bank accounts.

I moved every penny we had in savings and our other accounts into one checking account that was in my name only. When I got a chance, I'd just go there and drain the account and deposit the entire amount into a different bank. I'd use one of the smaller, off the beaten track banks, maybe even a credit union. I also canceled my direct deposit. I would get a paper check every week and deposit it into the bank myself. I knew that if the divorce stretched out, Stella would get a lawyer and they'd find some way of getting to the money.

I know a little bit about divorces from seeing friends on both sides go through them. The reason for the divorce didn't matter. No matter who was at fault, the guy usually got screwed. That wasn't going to happen to me. In the worst case scenario, I would just beat feet and start all over in another state. I refused to pay that bitch for cheating on me. Whoever she was fucking was welcome to her.

I looked at her like a used car. I'd had her when she was fresh and new. I'd put a lot of miles on her but it was time for someone else to have a turn. Maybe Stella was like a classic car. You imagined yourself driving her for the rest of your life, but the older she got the more problems you had with maintenance. There comes a point in time when you realize that the newer cars are better, more efficient and give you fewer problems. So you get rid of the old car and let someone have it that collects classic cars and is ready and willing to accept the problems and the responsibility that comes with them.

I'd fucked Stella and taken care of her for twenty five years and it had been no fucking picnic. Stella was spoiled, bitchy and very high maintenance. I'd put up with it because I'd loved her and she'd been all mine. But once I found out that she wasn't all mine, she was simply no longer worth the effort.

At lunch time, just when I was ready to go out to my lawyer's appointment, the phone rang. I answered it, expecting it to be a customer or a colleague.

"Mark Thomas," I said. "How can I help you?"

"Mark, you can take me back," she said crying. "Mark, I'm so sorry. I'll stop seeing him. It isn't worth all of this."

"Too late, Stella," I said. "Get yourself a lawyer. And find a reasonable one. If I'm going to end up paying for it, you'd better get the cheapest God damned lawyer in town. I want to get rid of your cheating ass but I'm not going to spend a dime more than I have to in doing it. If you go out and get yourself some high end lawyer, you'll be paying for it yourself. I remember when we talked about George's divorce the other day. I'm not George. You aren't getting shit out of me. I'll quit working and become a fucking bum. I'll give away all of my fucking money to homeless guys before I'll give you a quarter. You and I can sit around the same fifty five gallon drum, burning old newspapers whenever we can afford a lighter."

"Mark, just give me one chance to make this better?" she whined. "It was a mistake. I'm human. I started to feel like I wasn't attractive and..."

"You're not..." I hissed. "And this IS your one chance to make this better. You're making it better by staying the fuck out of my life so I can find someone I can trust and love for the rest of it. Do you think the past twenty five years of kissing your ass have been a picnic for me?"

"But Mark, I said I'm sorry," she said.

"Stella, you called this tune, so start dancing," I said. Then I hung up the phone. I slumped into my chair. I was being an asshole and I knew it. The real reason I was acting that way was ego and pain, pure and simple. I had loved Stella for most of my life. Even though we'd met in college, the truth was that I've lived more of my life with Stella in it than without her. Every decision I made was made with her input and her in mind. It hurt me to think that she would just go out and start fucking some guy without ever thinking about me. Before yesterday, I would have gladly trusted Stella with my life. Discovering that I'd been a fool hurt.

When you love someone very deeply, finding out that they don't feel the same hurts. I lashed out blindly in my pain trying to hurt her as deeply as she'd hurt me.

I saw the lawyer and he told me that most of the things I'd done were wrong. I couldn't close up the accounts and take the money out of them or any of the other things I'd done. I reminded him that as long as I paid my taxes, I could do anything I wanted with MY money. He claimed that any money produced during the marriage was considered community property. I told him to have a nice day.

"I'm only telling you the truth," he said.

"That may be," I said. "But I'd feel better with a male lawyer. One who has some balls."

I stopped off at Seven Eleven and checked my lottery ticket before buying another one. It matched every God damned number. I went into shock. I looked around the store to make sure no one was looking at me. I gestured for Jenni to come over away from the counter with me. She looked at me in confusion but came anyway.

"I can only be here for a few minutes," she said. "I only came over here because you're so nice and..."

Before going to the lawyer's office, I'd withdrawn a lot of my money to deposit in the new account. I gave Jenni a thousand dollars. She looked at me crazily.

"I'm sorry but I don't do that. No matter how nice you are or how much I need the money," she said handing it back.

I grabbed her arm and said, "Remember what I told you?" She just looked at me. I showed her the ticket and she looked at the big sign with the winning numbers on it.

"Thank you so much," she said. She hugged me and stuffed the money in her already overly stuffed bra.

When I got home that night, the front door to my house had been broken open. I immediately called 911 before going in. It saved my life. As I carefully walked into the house, I heard footsteps. I picked up the poker from the fireplace and relaxed as I saw Stella come out of the kitchen with a bottle of my beer in her hand.

"Mark, we have to talk about this," she said. "Now I brought Len..."

"What you brought was even more trouble," I said. "The mortgage is in my name alone. You're going to be arrested for breaking and entering and I will press charges..."

A huge, younger guy stepped out from behind her. He was really big. He had to be at least 6' 6". He had long blond hair halfway down his back and he was wearing a head band to keep it out of his eyes. He must've weighed close to three hundred pounds but his voice was no deeper than mine.

"Well, Farrah," I said. "Now I know why they didn't want you on Charlie's Angels anymore. It was the steroids, right?"

"Look dude," he said. "I just came to bring you your old lady back. Me and her are done. It was never anything serious. I had a granny fixation for a hot second and she wanted to feel young. You know how women are. So just move on from it."

"My name isn't Dude," I said. "How would you like it if I said, "Listen bitch?" His eyes narrowed and he clenched his fist.

"You broke into my house and threw garbage all over it, while stealing from me," I said. He looked at me crazily.

"Actually, she broke the glass in the door," he said. "And I don't know anything about garbage..."

"What do you call that?" I asked, pointing at Stella.

"Look man," he said. "I'm starting to get pissed here. You and Stella can work this out together. I told you I'm done with her..."

"Nu Unh," I said. "I don't want shit to do with her. You broke it, so you bought it. She's all yours. Maybe she can show you how to put make-up on or at least separate that one long eyebrow into two..."

"Mother fucker," he began.

"That's father when you're talking about me. Fucking someone's mother is only bad when you aren't married to them and aren't the father of their children. You, on the other hand, are exactly that. You're a cowardly, big, giant, bitch-like, mother fucker. I like you shirt though. Do they make them for men too?"

I am not a superhero. He was across the room and in my face before I could say anything else. He hit me just once and I flew backwards all the way to the wall where I crumpled into a heap on the floor. He picked me up and was about to hit me again when the TASER shocked him into unconsciousness.

The police officers stood there shaking their heads and looking down on him. "Sir, what happened? Do you intend to press charges?" they asked.

"I got home and called the police when I noticed that my front door had been broken into. I came in and this guy and my ex-wife were going through my things. We got into an argument and he started calling me names. I've never met him before. I think he's her boyfriend. Can you imagine that? She cheats on me with this gorilla and then he has the nerve to call ME names? Hell yeah, I want to press charges against both of them."

Stella went into shock. "What, me?" she said. "I didn't do anything."

"Did you come here with him ma'am?" asked the cop.

"Well, yes but..." she was flustered.

"Ma'am, that makes you guilty of being an accessory to breaking and entering and to the assault," he said.

By that time, they noticed that the gorilla was turning blue. One of the cops started CPR while the other called for an ambulance. When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics hit him with a portable defibrillator and drove him to the hospital. Stella was taken to jail.

I had just enough time to run over to the hardware and buy another pane of glass for my front door. When I woke up the next morning, I got a call from a man who claimed to be Stella's lawyer.

"Sir, can you come over to the courthouse for a meeting," he asked. "There's been a huge misunderstanding." I thought about it for a while.

"Yeah, I'll stop by on my way to work," I said.

When I got there, I was escorted into a room where Stella and a guy who looked like he was about twelve were sitting at a table. Stella was crying and the guy kept telling her it was all going to be fine.

When he saw me, he smiled. "The cops always get these things wrong," he said. "When they asked you about pressing charges yesterday they thought you meant against your wife too."

"I did," I said. "They got it right."

"But sir, she's facing serious jail time and..." he started to say something but I finished it for him.

"And that will make my divorce go a lot easier," I said smiling. Stella took one look at my face and knew I meant it.

"Please Mark," she whined. "I can't take another night like last night. I'll sign the papers. You can have whatever you want. Just get me out of here."

"Okay Stella," I said. "I have to get another lawyer and as soon as we draw up the papers and you sign them, I'll drop the charges and you can be a free woman and start your life over."

"Sir, can you bail her out of jail in the meantime?" he asked.

"Why?" I asked. "She's better off in here. This way she has somewhere to go and can't get into any more trouble."

As I left the courthouse, I was even more upset. Stella seemed apologetic as hell but it still didn't change the fact that she'd pretty much destroyed me. She'd broken my heart with no thought at all to my feelings. I guess when you look at it, there's really no good or nice way to tell someone that you aren't in love with them anymore.

It's even more confusing when the person claims that they still love you but they need to have sex with someone else. Women claim all the time that when they reach a certain age, that they need more sex than their aging husband can provide for them, or they need more variety. There are all kinds of magazines and articles on how if a woman's needs aren't being met she should be free to go out and take a lover.

In those articles, they point out that the man is usually acting on inferiority and insecurity. In most cases, he's afraid of his mate being taken away by a younger, more virile man. And he should allow his wife a few dalliances and once she's gotten it out of her system, things will eventually return to normal and the two of them will still spend their twilight years together.

Well, I'm only Mark Thomas, average Joe, but I have a couple of words for those highly educated professionals who write those articles. The words are Bull and Shit.

What the learned doctors and therapists are forgetting is another word; balance. They forget that when the couple first got together, it was the husband, who was at his sexual peak. In a lot of cases, early on, he didn't get nearly as much sex from his wife as he wanted either. But if he loved her, he was expected to just deal with it and or wait until she was in the mood; balance. When he wanted variety, he got, "You're not going anywhere near my ass with that thing; balance. If he had said, "Well Honey, I need more than you can give me. I'm going out to meet that hot chick at the gas station. But don't worry, I love YOU. It's just sex with her. He'd have heard a different word. He wouldn't have heard balance, he'd have heard, DIVORCE.

For every woman who suddenly needs a bigger dick, there's a guy out there dreaming about bigger tits and a tighter pussy; balance. And as to the question of all of those shrinks who expect the man to wait around for the woman to have her fling and come back to him so they can try to get back to normal and sit in a rocking chair on the porch together, let's review those first two words, Bull and Shit.

If after having her fling with some lounge lizard, my wife came back to me and said, "I'm over it. I'm ready to come home," I'd have to question either her sanity or mine. Because either she was completely stupid to think I'd even consider it, or she thought of herself far too highly. Maybe she thought of herself as being some pearl of great value that I was lucky to get. So maybe she considered that no matter what she'd done, I'd be willing to bend over and kiss her ass for the privilege or having her back in my life.

Nope, Stella, it doesn't work that way. To take her back I'd have to either be just completely stupid or have no self-respect at all. I did and probably do still love you Stella, but you're forgetting one thing about business and trading. Any object, even a pearl of great value, is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. And once you spread your legs for that asshole, your value to me is less than that of a two dollar whore. So go sit on a rocking chair with someone who thinks you're worth something.

I still remember those thoughts like it was yesterday, along with some that I never actually got to think out. I was snatched from both my thoughts and possibly great bodily injury by a hand tapping me on the shoulder.

I was so lost in angry thoughts about burying the hatchet with Stella and I meant burying a hatchet in her skull, that I hadn't realized that I was about to walk blindly down the steep concrete steps of the courthouse.

I stopped just inches from a dangerous tumble because of that tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see who'd done the tapping and almost fell over the steps anyway.

It was a very tiny woman with a less than tiny pair of breasts. She had three or four piercings in her face and I was afraid to think of where else she had them. Somehow she seemed familiar. Her makeup was piled on so thickly that it looked like spackle. She also had very dramatic eye makeup and black lipstick on to match her all black clothing and clunky platform shoes. She looked like Gene Simmons' little sister. As she opened her mouth to say something, I saw a huge tongue piercing. I didn't want to spend any time at all with this creature. Then, I noticed all of the tattoos. It was the one on her neck that did it. I didn't recognize it at first because it was considerably lighter than it had been when I'd seen it the previous day.

Recognition seemed to flare in her brain at the same instant. Suddenly, she pressed her legs together in nervousness or embarrassment and couldn't meet my gaze.

"Please tell me you're not Mark Thomas," she said.

"Jenni?" I asked. "Is that you? MY Jenni, from the Seven Eleven?"

She nodded and I realized what I'd said. "Sorry. I didn't mean that you were mine or anything like that. It's the twenty first century and no one owns anyone. Men and women are equals and all of that. When I said mine, I meant the beautiful Jenni that I remembered. Oh Shit, not that you're not still beautiful ... I recognize the beauty in diversity and ... Fuck, I'm just sorry," I said.

"You're Mark Thomas?" she asked again. "That woman, Stella, is the wife you're always going on about?"

"I am," I said. "And she used to be. But that's going to change."

We stood there looking at each other for an awkward moment and then she turned and said, "Uhm, bye."

"Wait Jenni," I said. "What did you want?"

"Forget it," she said. "I can't do it. I understand it all now and I can't go through with it."

"Jenni, can we go into that restaurant across the street and talk about this?" I said.

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