Saturday

By Vandemonium1

In April 2016, GeorgeAnderson wrote a fine tale called, ‘Friday’. In it, a wife was led astray by four friends and ended up having sex with all four of them while her very pissed off husband was tied to a chair watching. It damned near killed their marriage. I liked it as a story except for one thing. The four perps walked away unpunished; free to destroy another couple. I took offence at that; so this is the story of the next man they tried it with. Unfortunately for Chrissy, Anna, Bill and Todd, his name was Dave.

This story is written with the kind blessing of Mr. Anderson, a big hearted person, and will make much more sense if you read that story first. He actually develops his characters. You can find it at:

https://www.literotica.com/s/friday-15

Notes for the blog edition. Of course I wrote this because there is no way in the world the original should have ended in reconciliation. Guy gets tied up by his wife and her friends. Wife screws her friends. They reconcile and there are no consequences all round. All equals man with no pride.

If you like reconciliation, or faint at the sight of blood. STOP READING NOW.

***********
Sounds. Try to focus on the sounds. Two people talking. Machines beeping in the background. Female voice.

“His pulse has been slowly rising for the last half an hour and he’s twitched a few times. I think he’s coming around.”

“Thank you nurse. Mr. Brown, can you hear me? 10cc of adrenaline please, nurse.”

Stabbing feeling in right bicep. Rushing feeling in ears. Right eyelid lifted and bright light shone in eye. The left follows. Try to lift right arm to remove annoying prick with the torch. Confusion. Right arm won’t move. Try left arm. Good, that moves. Push annoying light and person away. Open eyes, blink a few times, scan the room. Occupants; one bored looking nurse; one tired looking doctor; guy in suit, looking worried. Talk gibberish to doctor in white jacket. Watch him take blood pressure; bash my knees and elbows with a small hammer; nod and mumble to guy in suit. Doctor and nurse leave. Confused looking guy on bed, i.e. me, looks at guy in suit.

“Do I know you?”

“Oh God, I was afraid of this. I’m Doctor Jones from ward 5B, don’t you remember me?”

I shake my head from side to side; he sighs.

“Well, for the record, we’ve talked just about every day for the last three weeks.”

I look right, and see my right wrist handcuffed to the hospital bed. I look at Dr. Jones with raised eyebrows.

“Ward 5B is the psych ward. You’ve been a patient there under my care for three weeks. Somehow, last night you were given somewhere around six times the normal dose of a sedative and almost died. If you hadn’t fallen out of bed and knocked a vase of flowers over, the night nurse would never have come in and saved you. We’re investigating how the dosage was exceeded, but between you and me, it’s a bit of a mystery. Now, there’s someone outside to see you, she’ll be very happy to see you’re all right.”

The suited man goes to the door and pokes his head out to say something. He comes back in, followed by an attractive brunette, about my age, looking sheepish. My face remains blank. I know it does, it’s my face. All three of us stare at each other, the silence broken by the sound of the heart rate monitor I am still attached to rapidly climbing the scale. Suddenly I launch to the full extent of my manacled arm.

“You bitch! You fucking bitch!”

The look of fear on the woman’s face as she races out the door. The weight of the guy in the suit pressing me back to the bed. The orderly racing in to help him. The sound of the heart rate monitor dropping below 200BPM. The prick in the arm, administered by the prick in the suit and the return to blackness.

*****

It is the next morning, I presume. Housekeeper vacuuming my room, burly orderly standing just inside the door ready to pounce if I look even sideways at her. Scratch nose with right arm. Hey, it’s not handcuffed anymore. Just noticed how hungry I am when catering ladies come in with breakfast. Room vacated with emphasis on locking the door. Bored. Faces looking through glass windows on doors. Brunette from yesterday, looking worried, lips moving. Dr. Jones at other window, shaking his head. Nurse opening door, giving me two pills and watching as I put them in my mouth, one at a time, followed by a mouthful of water. Nurse turning to look at door windows, then turning back and hissing.

“Asshole! The next time you want to off yourself, do it when I’m not on shift.”

Nurse leaving. Sleepy now. Lunch, hmm, inspiring. Bored again. Time to think. Collected by orderly and taken to a small studio like conference room. Dr. Jones is already there.

“Good afternoon, Dave. I’m Dr. Jones.”

“Yes, I know that Doctor, we met yesterday.”

“Of course, of course. I didn’t know if you would remember. In fact, we met three weeks ago. I’ve been treating you since then.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, I have no memory of you before yesterday.”

“Yes, I was afraid of that. So, you have no knowledge of why you’re here?”

“If by here, you mean the psych ward of a hospital, no, I have no idea why I’m here. Are you going to tell me?”

I could tell my voice was a boring monotone and felt a little embarrassed about that. The good doctor told me a tale in words obviously chosen with some care.

“You were brought here three weeks ago, David, after a suspected psychotic episode. I have to tell you some people were… hurt during your episode. The police arrested you, but the duty medical examiner intervened and you were brought here.”

“That doesn’t sound like me, Doctor; I wouldn’t normally hurt a fly.”

“Yes, we know that, David. We’ve thoroughly investigated your background. Since you’ve been here, you’ve been declared medically incompetent and placed under the guardianship of your wife.”

“Wife, yes I have a wife. She was the lady in the hospital yesterday, wasn’t she?”

Disappointed nod.

“That’s right, Jane, I remember now. I hope I didn’t upset her with my disgusting behavior yesterday.”

“She’ll be fine David. She’s hardly left your side since you’ve been here. Anyway, over the last three weeks, I’ve been slowly and very carefully regressing you back to the night that your… episode occurred, to try to determine your state of mind at the time. It’s important for the police, you understand. We were making really good progress and then you were accidentally overdosed with sedatives. Now, we appear to be back at square one. This time, though, the police are pressuring me for results.”

“What results, Doctor?”

“Well, to be blunt, whether or not at the time the incident occurred, you were technically sane. It’s a difficult case and the illicit drugs aren’t helping, they seem to be masking even your deepest memories.”

“Drugs?”

“Yes, when you were brought in here, there were traces of ecstasy in your blood, amongst other things.”

“I don’t do drugs, Doc.”

“Yes, you said that last time. Anyway, rather than start from the beginning, I’m going to try showing you some of the highlights from our recorded chats since you’ve been here. Is that okay?”

“Can I ask two questions first, Doc?”

“Of course.”

“Why do my wrists itch and do you have any popcorn?”

Finally, a smile.

“Your wrists itch because when you were brought here, you had abrasions on them and the scabs got itchy while they healed, and no, we don’t have popcorn. This is a hospital, thus food with flavor is outlawed, but it’s good to see your sense of humor is returning.”

The doctor nodded to a technician, who pressed buttons. I watched myself on film, boring monotone voice and all. I watched myself describing my upbringing. Orphan at 12, in and out of foster homes and institutions until adulthood. Intelligent, scholarship, good job. Marriage to Jane, only daughter of a rich, over protective father. Jane also intelligent, ambitious, upwardly mobile with eyes on the prize of politics. Member of countless committees to get public exposure. Recently joined a new company and immediately adopted by two new work friends, Chrissy and Anna. Started going out on girl’s nights with them every week, on Saturday. Being invited to go with them and going around to Chrissy’s house to be greeted by Chrissy, Anna and their husbands, Bill and Todd. Taking an instant dislike to them when they immediately ogled Jane. Film stops.

“That’s as far as we got, David.”

“What can you tell me about my incident, Doc?”

“Nothing, David. It’s vitally important that you remember, yourself. Since people got hurt, I have to report to the police your state of mind at the time. Let’s just say, if you were technically insane at the time then good things will happen to you. If you weren’t, then bad things will happen. I think you had a psychotic episode, perhaps triggered by drugs, and then compartmentalized that away to protect yourself. My job is to unlock that compartment. By you leading us through your state of mind, I can assess what to write in my report. That’s all for today. For homework tonight, try to remember the party you and Jane went to that Saturday night. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” 

“I’ll try, Doc. Can I ask another question?”

“Of course.”

“How did I overdose on sedatives? I presume you have some sort of system to account for them all.”

The good doctor gave me a searching look.

“Yes, we have an excellent system that should be foolproof. To be honest, David, the nurses think you managed to not swallow some of your medication, but instead, hoarded them.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Again, the nurses think you were attempting suicide. They think you feel guilty about what happened and wanted to end it all.”

“I don’t remember what I did, Doc, so why would I feel guilty about it?”

“Yes, there is that, although who knows how the subconscious works?”

“Someone said yesterday that my wife had hardly left my side in the last three weeks, I’m really confused by how I reacted to her yesterday. She obviously loves me, but did I love her?”

“Yes you did. From all our discussions it’s clear that you love her almost obsessively.”

“And yet, yesterday I tried to reach her to hurt her. Tell me, Doc, did she ever give me the sedatives?”

The good doctor’s face paled at that. He excused himself and left the room. It was a good ten minutes before he returned, looking very thoughtful.

“Two of the nurses reported that they sometimes gave Jane the medicine to give to you. That is a serious breach of protocol, but they both said that she obviously loved you dearly and saw no harm in it. However… “

“What is it, Doc?”

“When you were brought in that first night, you were babbling something about her. You blamed her for something but we never took it seriously. I mean, the police said that the evidence at the scene, and the witnesses, left no doubt what happened. If what you said had even a hint of truth, then Jane would have to be a very good actress to pull that off.”

“Did I hear myself tell you earlier that she was a prominent member of the city amateur dramatic society, Doc?”

At that point, I stood and shuffled to the door. I heard Doctor Jones pick up the phone behind me. “Carol, could you put me through to that Detective Fenton, please.”

Back to room, cardboard dinner, darkness falling, another nurse watching me swallow pills. Lights turned off, left alone, door locked. Wait half a minute, go to tiny toilet, finger down throat, identify tablets, flush down toilet. Return to bed, plan, plot, scheme.

*****

Why didn’t you ask me where I met Jane, Doc? It was at the local amateur dramatic society. I was already a good actor before joining them. Years of acting normal had done that. I wasn’t normal; no child ripped by fate from a loving family and put in the brutal state system could be. If there was anyone within the system that was normal, I never met them. By 15, I knew that violence was the only answer to violence, and the only one who gave a damn about you was you.

Memories scroll across my consciousness. Ten years after being declared an adult and released from the system, no one would ever know that I was damaged. No one should ever have known. My dream was that the love that I felt for Jane would last forever and conceal the beast that I kept caged within me. I did love Jane, and wanted nothing more than to father her children, retire with her and die in her loving arms, and we were right on track for that. I married her against her father’s wishes. We both had good jobs and I supported her ambitions, even though it took her away from me much more that I liked. Then, she changed jobs to one with better promotional prospects. Then, she met Chrissy and Anna, girls I instinctively didn’t like. Then, the girls’ nights started despite me reminding Jane what her predecessor, Lena somebody, had told her about the terrible duo. “Don’t turn your back on Chrissy and Anna.” Then, the subtle pressure to think about wife swapping and group sex. No, no, no, hell no. The apparent backing down on her part and the seeming return to normality on mine. The easing of tensions, and the return to being the most attentive, considerate husband in the history of marriage.

Then, the out of the blue invitation to join them on their girls’ night. I was very pleased; that gave me an extra evening with Jane and might allay my suspicions about her new friends. I trusted Jane completely and had absolute faith she would never hurt me. After all, absolute love can’t exist without giving your mate the power to destroy you. I did know, that because of her protected upbringing, she was relatively easily led, however. I welcomed the chance to see that I was right to trust her.

I genuinely don’t remember much about the beginning of that girls’ night. We didn’t go out partying, just to Chrissy and Bill’s place. Chrissy and Anna, I’d met, their husbands, Bill and Todd, I hadn’t. Both girls were what some people call eye candy. Not this somebody, though, he had eyes only for his wife. As I said, I took an instant dislike to the guys. Their kiss of greeting to Jane and lingering eye contact caused my hackles to rise. It was inappropriate. I expected Jane to say so; she said nothing. When drinks were offered, I wanted a beer, but husbands of upwardly mobile women don’t admit to liking beer. I accepted a G & T instead. The first one was okay and relaxed me enough not to appear standoffish. I debated refusing a second one. I hadn’t missed the looks that everyone was exchanging. In the end, Bill insisted and I accepted. By this stage, we were all at the dining room table, playing some sort of game. Don’t ask me what it was.

The spinning of my head and rushing noise in my ears was the first clue something was wrong. My face, involuntarily turning into a grin, was the second. I’d been drinking since I was 14; one and a half drinks don’t do that to me. That takes about eight. Everyone was staring at me and I was swaying. Todd and Bill stood on either side of me, holding an arm each, asking if I was okay. Chrissy grabbed something from a drawer and walked behind me. I felt my arms being guided through the wooden slats of the chair back. Cold steel handcuffs keeping them there. Head struggling to remain upright. Chrissy handing Bill and Todd rolls of tape to affix my legs to those of the chair. Jane, my Jane, coming over to kiss me and whisper, “Shush, Darling, Chrissy assures me they’ve done this before and the husbands always end up loving it. Watch me play to start with, then it will be your turn.”

Me, trying to get my mouth to work, or at least stop this stupid grin whatever drug they’d put in my second drink was causing. Chrissy and Anna taking Jane to the other side of the table and sensuously removing her top. No bra. Confirmation, as if I needed it, that this was all pre-planned. Bill and Todd setting up two video cameras on tripods. One, covering me and the rest of the dining room, the second, the lounge with its centerpiece, a huge fluffy sheepskin. My wife closing her eyes and sighing as both breasts were cupped and suckled. I tried to move, but as yet, outrage was subordinate to drugs. Jane’s eyes opening briefly and my smile triggering hers. Anna keeping suckling while Chrissy kneels and removes Jane’s jeans; again, no panties. Both girls leading Jane to the edge of the table. Anna going back to cupping one breast and pinching the nipple while chewing on the other. Chrissy, spreading Jane’s legs, forcing her to lean backwards over the table and lapping at her sex. Jane, with eyes clenched shut now, moaning. Todd and Bill, returning to their chairs to watch the show. Me helpless, wondering when Jane had become bisexual and asking my drug fucked brain if that was an entirely bad thing.

Jane, forcing her right arm between her own body and Anna, to join the left in clamping Chrissy’s head in place while she screams in orgasm. Her body relaxing, allowing the other two girls to maneuver her onto the table, on her back, right in front of me. Offence turning to outrage, half a minute into the next scene. Chrissy exchanging places with Anna. The latter taking her place as chief carpet muncher; not really an appropriate appellation as I notice Jane is now clean-shaven for the first time since we met. Chrissy clambering on the table to straddle my wife’s head and lower herself onto Jane’s face. My vantage point allowing me to see Jane’s tongue extend and start lapping the sloppy offering. Bill and Todd rising, walking to go to each side of the table and insert Jane’s now vacant nipples in their mouths. Jane’s eyes closing again and she’s moaning continually now. This scene building up enough outrage that my adrenaline begins to overcome the drugs and I regain control of my face at least.

I hear my mouth mumble incoherently. No one else does. Jane’s body bucking like a wild bronco as she comes again, followed by Chrissy thrashing and screaming. Everyone slowing down. Chrissy climbing off the table, allowing Bill to move up to Jane’s face to lick his wife’s juices off. His hand now toying with the breast his face has vacated. Todd’s mouth keeping going on the other breast but a hand going to Jane’s recently vacated groin and gently stroking it. Next to succumb to adrenaline, after my face, is my tongue. This time everyone hears me, “No.” Jane turns her face away from Bill’s tongue to look at me. I have no idea what she’s seeing, but it causes her face to pull into a frown and doubt to appear in her eyes. While I am trying to do manually, what is normally an autonomic action, that is, say something more sophisticated than, “No,” Jane beats me to it.

“Are you guys sure he’ll enjoy this? He looks… “

“Don’t worry about it, Janey; they always react like this to start with.”

After this statement, Chrissy nods her head towards Bill and a set of drawers behind me. Bill walks over and retrieves something. I push my head backwards to allow me to focus as a red ball gag appears. The only thing I notice is that it already has teeth marks in it. I manage to get out a stern, “Jane, no,” before it is roughly pulled tight. Bill and Todd admire their handiwork. Bill walks away. Todd leans in to me. “Enjoy the show, wimp.” He then walks after Bill, with a, “Right, our turn.” They lead Jane into the lounge and onto the rug. I lock eyes on her head, but she pointedly avoids eye contact. With obviously practiced familiarity, Jane gets on all fours in the center of the rug. Todd lies at her head end, their bodies making a right angle. Bill kneels behind her and with no further ado, mounts her. On the way down to the cock below, her face is turned towards me. Bereft of all other means of communication, I violently shake my head and made uh-uh noises. Jane’s face looks almost stricken as it turns from me to Chrissy, who nods with encouragement. Further expression is lost to me as Jane turns away and lowers her lips onto Todd’s cock. 

I pause the movie in my head. The action from this point on is too fast to follow in real time. I’ll have to hit pause every now and then.

It was only because I averted my eyes away from the horrendous scene in the lounge that I saw the evil looks on first Chrissy’s and then Anna’s faces. This was killing me and they loved it. They watched as I hopelessly strained on my arms until the pain from the handcuffs put a stop to that. I felt blood trickling from at least one wrist. Anna paused in her gloating to move the video camera from a side view of me to one from the front. I stared directly into the lens as it extended towards me for a close-up. I have no idea how long we stayed like this while I tried to blot out the grunts and moans from the lounge. Outrage was in full swing now but still not enough to overcome steel, wood and tape. It probably never would have been, except the girls made their last mistake.

Anna complained that she hadn’t come yet. Chrissy invited her to use their toy. What their toy was, wasn’t apparent until they walked around the table, grabbed a shoulder each and laid my chair on its back. Anna stripped off the rest of her clothes, then lowered her groin against my face. Obviously, in a hurry, she immediately began grinding her clitoral area into the gag and my nose. As she increased the pressure and tempo, my last remaining source of air was cut off. One thing I haven’t said yet was that I have a pathological fear of suffocation. I’d been crushed in the same accident that killed my parents. I’d spent a petrified hour, struggling to breathe until rescue arrived. That triggered a burst of adrenaline that no mere outrage could elicit, only primal fear. I tried turning my face but Anna’s clamping thighs stopped that. My whole body flexed as it screamed for air. Adrenaline causes the blood to take on more Oxygen, which consumes more air. My left leg flexed back on the chair leg. The right leg, taped looser, flexed to the side. The tape on that leg pulled away. My hands were sore from the pressure of two bodies on them. My face sawed up and down on the slippery groin above it.

For three weeks, I had taken solace in the slow motion replay of events in the next 128 seconds. In the sawing of my face, the ball gag caught on Anna’s pubic bone. The ball was rolled out of my mouth. Without even taking a breath, I used the only weapon I had free to defend myself. My mouth opened wide, then jaw clenched with adrenaline-fueled strength. Teeth met, despite the resistance of flesh. Thighs clenched tighter on my head in Anna’s fight or flight moment. Blood spurted onto my face. Anna’s reflexes to get away from the danger saw her straightening her legs and backing away. Her hands were still locked on the top of the back of the chair. Adrenaline fuelled her strength as well, so that as she rose, the chair rose upright as well. By the size of the intake of breath she took, this was going to be one hell of a scream. More freedom of movement allowed my left leg to join the right in freedom. My chair and I were now mobile.

I knew I had mere seconds to protect myself from the biggest dangers I faced, the bigger Bill, followed by Todd. If my upbringing had taught me one thing, it was that attack is the best means of defense. In fact, it was the only option when you’re heavily outnumbered and flight is impossible. My chair and I ran as fast as we could around the table. Chuck Yaeger’s record was in no danger as I hobbled around. Just as I got to the archway into the lounge, three significant things happened simultaneously. First, and most satisfying, Anna began screaming. The harmonics were almost stunning, even in the large dining room. Second, Chrissy caught me up and grabbed my chair buddy, or, as I like to think of it now, my on board weapons system. Third, our commotion finally broke the concentration of the three fuckers in the lounge. All three faces turned towards us. Jane had cum drooling out of her mouth.

 Years of training and conditioning took over. I may only have a green belt in Judo, but I’m a third Dan black belt streetfighter. Judo trains one to not overcome other’s strength and momentum, but to use it. Rather than trying to wrench the chair away from Chrissy’s grasp by main force, I used her forwards momentum to turn us around. Once she had her back to the direction I WAS going to travel, I began running backwards. To avoid the chair, she had no choice but to follow. We were moving quite fast when we hit Jane, still prone on the floor. Bill must have thrown himself backwards, off and out of Jane. Todd, either in mid-orgasm or very shortly afterwards, could only summon the wherewithal to half roll away from her. I’m tall and bulky, so that by the time the right rear chair leg hit Chrissy’s chest, milliseconds after she hit an immovable object, the floor, it had about half a ton of momentum behind it, all concentrated at a point less than an inch square. Being closer, the oomph of breath being expelled from her body temporarily drowned out Anna’s screams.

In slow time, as I rolled, I’d realized that my first reflex had been the wrong one. Here I was between my two biggest threats, with unusable arms. I’d used the roll’s momentum to regain my feet, then lit off at breakneck speed, as long as the neck was on a snail, back through the arch to the dining room. I bunny hopped from the floor to a chair, to the tabletop. Without pause, I threw myself to the floor, twisting in mid-air. This was a huge gamble and I knew it. If I damaged my arms at this point, I was finished.

It hurt. A lot. Success was announced when I had no trouble rising to my feet again. The weight behind me suggested the heavy chair base was gone. A glance behind me; there was the chair base, legs broken. That meant only the back was pinned to me. I stained to the pain barrier again. Still no good. I then tried raising my arms over my head to bring them to the front before remembering that arms don’t work that way. Fuck, I wish that woman would stop screaming. The last of the drugs must have burned away at that moment, because I remembered what I’d done the last time the police had my arms handcuffed behind my back. I sat again and with supreme effort, backed first one, then the second leg, through the circle my arms made. This time when I stood, my hands and the chair back were in front of me. I made it to the arch into the lounge just before Todd, coming from the opposite direction. Just past him, I could see Bill crouched over Chrissy. As I watched, she convulsed and vomited blood and bile over his knees. Jane was backed into a corner, looking at me with an expression of horror. I realized later that I must have had blood dripping from my mouth and chin, as well as my wrists. God knows what my face showed above the blood. Todd was frozen, looking over my shoulder. His reflexes told him to get to his screaming wife. Trouble was, I was in the way. He stepped forwards, arms raised. My reflexes told me to stiff-arm him in the face with the chair remnants. That stunned him enough that I was able to swat the side of his face with it. I watched the valiant piece of furniture finally break apart, leaving me only holding an upright back strut. Amazingly, he didn’t go down, just stood there, feet splayed, dazed. That allowed me to use a move that I’d never learned in Judo. I kicked him fair in the naked dangling scrotum. He went up on his toes, then went over.

As the last man standing, Bill had three choices. He could have fled. He could have made it known he was no threat, which may or may not have saved him from my wrath. He chose option three. The tall naked pissed off man attacked. Half-turning, he grabbed a heavy standing lamp and took two paces towards me and raised the lamp to swing. Half way through the swing, it came to the extent of its electrical cord, travelling at a sharp angle around a couch leg. The lamp, and Bill, hesitated. I didn’t. I stepped half a pace past him and drove the piece of wood in my hands, towards the back of his head. He ducked reflexively and I missed. Instead of the blunt part hitting his head, the sharp end plunged into the side of his neck. He dropped the lamp and fell to his knees. At that point, I collapsed on my ass on the couch, no longer able to stand now that the adrenalin was leaving my body, leaving it quivering. Apart from the shrieks of pain from the kitchen, the groans from the prone Todd, the retching sounds from Chrissy and the frantic sounds of Bill trying to grab the wood impaling his throat, all was silent.

When had Jane stood up? We stared at each other across the room for who knows how long. Certainly long enough for a thump following the cessation of Anna’s screams to indicate she’d finally passed out. Was that before Bill finally toppled forwards or not? It’s probably not important. Still, we stared without a word. I wondered what was going through her mind. Chrissy and Anna’s motives were clear, the destruction of a husband. Bill and Todd were the shallow types that were probably just motivated by lust and fresh pussy. How did that work out for you guys? Jane’s progress to disaster wasn’t that hard to guess I suppose. The sudden interest in group sex, probably after Chrissy and Anna filled her head with stories of how fantastic it was. The subtle pressure to conform with her new pushy friends. Maybe a little two-way lesbian action, followed by a three-way, as a gentle introduction to infidelity. Then the ‘accidental’ discovery by one or more husband and the slide into full on cheating. The conscience tweaked and the options becoming, find some way of including hubby, or give up this new, immensely pleasurable lifestyle. I guessed that Miss Gullible 2015 had been conned by four predators into thinking I would happily go along with their group sex once I saw how much fun it was. I’ve always hated jumping to conclusions, but I don’t think she believed that anymore.

If I thought this night of horrors was over, I was mistaken. Jane’s eyes, flicking to one of the cameras, gave me the first clue. She wasn’t dumb. She knew our marriage was over. All of a sudden, I knew that our destinies had diverged to opposite poles and those poles were represented by those cameras. Without those cameras, she’d be a divorcee who was the victim of a husband whose cuckold and humiliation fantasy had gone badly wrong. Any surviving witness would attest to that. With those cameras, she was in prison for unlawful restraint and accessory to sexual assault. Sure, they hadn’t been on when I was actually restrained, but there was such a thing as circumstantial evidence. With those cameras, her reputation and dreams were in the gutter. The trouble was that with those cameras, I was a free man. Without, I was in prison for a long, long time.

Her move, when she made it, caught me unawares. She leapt up and headed to the arch, grabbing camera, tripod and all, on the way. I leapt to my feet with the speed of an asthmatic sloth, and tripped straight over the same power cord that had been Bill’s undoing. Before I regained my feet, she had the second camera, her purse, and was through the door. By the time I reached it, I was just in time to see her nakedness closing the car door. By the time I was in full sprint, she’d stopped backing to slam the car into drive. Without a plan, I continued running towards her. Straight into the path of an oncoming car. Unable to walk, but unconscious anyway, the police and arrest were soon coming. Considerate man that I am, the police didn’t even have to cuff me.

The policeman, left to guard me in the hospital, telling a nurse the story while I was still feigning unconsciousness, confirmed that I’d been right. They’d interviewed enough people to conclude that the willing humiliatee, me, had changed his mind after the start of the show and gone ape shit. There were few details, but enough to know I was well and truly Donald Ducked. Shortly afterwards, I’d awoken insane.

*****

That was three weeks ago, and since then the actor had reigned supreme and the bitch I’d married had barely failed to kill me by hoarding tranquilizers. An overheard whispered conversation, when her father was visiting and I was feigning sleep, let me know that he knew the real story and they were fairly confident her ambitions had only suffered a non-fatal setback, but only if I suffered one. That was a week ago, but in the here and now, my watch alarm was going off. I had places to go and people to see.  

Slipping out of bed and into my one set of street clothes, I slipped the lock on the door, which was boringly unchallenging for someone of my heritage. Tonight there was the usual one nurse and one orderly on duty. I knew from experience, that these two covered each other while one slept the night away. The other one usually played games on the computer. Into Dr. Joneses office, source of all my research material, including textbooks and my own files. That’s how I’d known he was going to go for broke and attempt to finish my treatment, the day after my poisoning. That’s why I’d mumbled a confession in my sleep and prompted Jane to use her stash of tranquilizers earlier than she’d planned. Dr. Jones left his office unlocked, so it wasn’t difficult to borrow his white lab coat. He, like almost everyone else here, assumed that all the patients in 5B actually were insane. Past the brightly lit office with its glowing computer screen and engrossed orderly, bypass the lock on the exterior door and out. Slip on Dr. Jones lab coat and walk out into the outside world for the third time in three weeks. Mission, find a couple of cameras.

I knew the cameras still existing was a long shot, but it was all I had. I was insane, so I’d never given my testimony about that Saturday night. I’m sure Jane’s father’s lawyer had spun a wonderful yarn about how I’d pressured her into participating in my fantasy of being humiliated, then how I’d snapped half way through and gone nuts. I’m sure, for self-preservation, Todd, Anna and Chrissy had told a similar story. They held all the cards. The cameras were my only hope. They didn’t show me being tied up, but did show my reaction to it. Most importantly of course, it showed my attacks on Todd, Anna and Bill were self-defense, and Chrissy was an accident. Everyone knew what the cameras represented, and any normal person would make sure they disappeared forever. I knew Jane’s father, Matthew, wasn’t a normal person.

I only knew Jane’s mother for the first year and a half after meeting her daughter, then she died of liver failure. One night, we were left alone while Jane was helping her father entertain some influential business types. She got maudlin and confessed her life story to me. She’d basically married Jane’s father to rescue her family’s business. Before and after Jane was born, she was used by her husband to seal business deals. As her husband was very possessive about Jane, she was desperate for another child to call her own and had secretly gone off birth control. Consequently, she’d become pregnant after a gangbang organized by her husband. He was so furious he’d pressured her, not only into an abortion, but a hysterectomy at the same time. She’d never forgiven herself and turned to alcohol. It took 15 years, but it finally gave her the escape she craved. That gave me the insight into Matthew’s mind that I was relying on now. Could a deviant like him destroy footage of a lesbian threesome and a one woman, two men threesome, even if one of the participants was his own daughter? I thought not. I knew he wasn’t that computer savvy; he had people for that. The odds of him being able to copy the video files to somewhere secret, then destroying the cameras, were slim.

On my first two trips out, I’d searched my own house and Jane’s car with no result. Now it was time for Matthew’s house. When it became obvious that Dr. Jones really didn’t have a clue how I’d been overdosed, I’d been forced to implant the idea that Jane could have been responsible. I knew the police would have told him the details of my arrest and I knew he was smart enough to know there were two possible stories, and that one of them gave Jane a motive. With me out of the way, the case would be dropped and the story suppressed. The widow would marry again with only a minor setback to her career plans. If everything had gone to plan tonight, then Jane and her father were helping the police with their enquiries right now, leaving his house free to search. I stole a car a block away from the hospital and, wearing surgical gloves, headed over there.

I was partly right, in the end. Jane was helping the police, but at Matthew’s house. I could see inside the study, two uniformed police, a detective looking guy, Jane, Matthew and someone who had to be a lawyer were in there. It was a huge house and the study was at the front. I quietly smashed an opaque window on the back door and walked straight up the stairs to the bedrooms. First, I checked all the spare bedrooms until I found the one Jane was staying in and searched it. Nothing. Thirty seconds in the master bedroom revealed I’d judged Matthew’s character right. Both cameras were in a drawer under the huge wall mounted television. I checked both still had the relevant footage before pocketing them. I considered leaving the drawer open to let him know they were gone, so he would stew, but resisted. The clues left by my break and entry would probably lead to that discovery anyway. Leaving the house, I quickly drove to ours and let myself in with the stashed spare key.

Starting our computer, I copied both cameras to it, then copied to two memory sticks. While one was copying, I fast-forwarded the other. The lounge camera simply showed Bill, Todd and Jane fucking for a few minutes. It then showed me accidentally falling over Jane and injuring Chrissy, Todd stepping towards me menacingly and me defending myself, before showing Bill attacking me. It showed, fairly clearly, that my intention had been to only stun him, but he’d ducked into the blow. Best of all, it showed Jane picking up the camera and running. The other camera was busier. It started with me tied and looking drugged. I mean, if you grabbed an actor and said, “Look drugged,” he couldn’t have done better. It showed me protesting, being very forcibly gagged, all the action on the table, the focus on my pissed off face and me being sexually assaulted. I’d hadn’t seen Anna’s facial reaction to my self-defense of her assault last time. I did now, and it gave me no pleasure. Next, it picked up enough of the action of Chrissy grabbing me and my chair, plus me breaking it to give the right impression. Again, it showed Jane grabbing the camera.

I turned off the computer, without deleting the files. If ever seized, it would show a record that Jane not only had watched the footage, but had taken the effort to copy the cameras. So long as they never checked the date stamp and cross-referenced it with where Jane was at the time, it would be very damning. It couldn’t be me. I was safely locked in a secure room of ward 5B. I hid one of the sticks in the house and the second in the garden shed. I was back at Matthew’s house 35 minutes after leaving. The marked police car was gone, but there were still two strange cars in the driveway, a Lexus and a Ford. Guess which one belonged to a detective. After wiping them of any possible DNA, I dropped the cameras on the passenger seat of the Ford. I looked forward to seeing how they rationalized their sudden appearance. It took me three hours to get back to my room; I had another house to visit. After dropping the car back where I’d found it, I broke back into the hospital, tilting my head down whenever I passed a camera.

The next day, for the second day running, my loving wife didn’t visit. I enquired after her, of course. My first confirmation that things weren’t right was when my afternoon appointment with Dr. Jones was cancelled. I requested through a nurse that I be excused tranquilizers that day, and the Doctor popped in to ask why. I told him I was trying to process a nightmare I’d had last night and felt it was important to my recovery. He agreed, but I noticed big orderlies kept a good eye on me all day and night.

Two days later, I was led into the conference room of ward 5B and introduced to a man simply known as John. Dr. Jones asked if I minded if John sat in that day’s session. Call me psychic if you like, but I reckon John drives a Ford. Dr. Jones seemed very excited when I used my normal voice to ask where my legal guardian, Jane, was today. He told me she’d been excused as my guardian. To me, that could only mean she’d been arrested.

The good doctor asked me if I could explain my nightmare. I told the full story of the lead up to the party and the suspicion that I’d been drugged and restrained. The doctor and the detective exchanged nods at that point. I explained that the exact details of what happened next were still hazy but I acknowledged that I’d done some violent things to some people that had attacked me. I knew it was common for anyone in a crisis to be unsure of exact details.

After I’d finished, John confirmed with Dr. Jones that I wasn’t under the influence of any medication and asked me some gentle follow up questions. Was I aware that I’d damaged Anna’s genitals with my teeth? Yes, but I was being smothered at the time, with my arms helpless behind my back and unable to breathe through my mouth. After that answer, I turned pleading eyes to Dr. Jones and asked him if he thought my nightmare was actually true. He replied that he was afraid it might well be. John resumed his questioning. Was I aware that Chrissy was hanging onto me and my chair? Yes, I was trying to shake her off to get to my wife in the other room. Why did I want to get to Jane? I’m not sure. I think I just wanted reassurance that she still loved me. Why had I attacked Todd? I saw him stepping towards me threateningly. Why Bill? What would you do if someone was trying to bash your head in with a heavy lamp base?

As this point, from their point of view, I got very agitated as I came to the realization that my nightmare was actually a memory. Dr. Jones immediately gave me a sedative. Damn, I’d have to go back to faking that monotone voice again. He also told John his questions would have to stop. I asked what was going to happen to me. John said that new information had come to light that I’d been drugged by person or persons unknown, and appeared to have wreaked carnage while under the influence and wholly in self-defense. The murder charges had been dropped. I did look surprised at that, I thought I’d only neutralized Bill. It turns out that my chair had also ruptured Chrissy’s diaphragm and esophagus; she’d drowned in her own blood and bile. Both Todd’s testes were ruptured and inoperable, and Anna would never again enjoy humiliating people for sexual pleasure, or enjoy any other form of sexual pleasure, come to think of it.

The police were searching for the surviving pair, to help with their enquiries, but they’d disappeared the day before. I do like it when people do what they’re told. Jane had been arrested and charged with, well, everything really. Charges of drugging me and unlawful restraint were unlikely to stick. They had an even chance of getting her on attempted murder with the tranquilizers. That, I could help with when I suddenly remembered I’d seen her retrieving something from under a set of drawers in my room, and a search revealed one stray pill. I wonder where that came from? The obstruction of justice charge was a slam dump. I could rely on the police pursuing that with alacrity. She’d committed the worse moral crime against them imaginable; made them look silly.

The interview was over and Dr. Jones was busy scribbling in his notes. John was only human; the question of how the two cameras had suddenly appeared must be eating him up. He turned to me and gave me the most searching look I’d ever been subjected to. I had just sensed he was about to break eye contact when I winked. It was a wink that said, “Yes, I wouldn’t have been able to break out of a jail cell as easily as a psych ward, would I?” A grateful smile suffused his face, with maybe a touch of admiration. He stood to go, asking Dr. Jones when the last time the hospital had conducted a review of the effectiveness of the door locks. Dr. Jones took the question seriously, saying he would make enquiries.

I was declared sane three days later, and released. Two nights later, Matthew had a visitor at 3AM, one he didn’t enjoy. Given a choice of stopping supporting his daughter with legal help or becoming the third fatality in the Dave/Jane affair, the moral coward chose the predictable option. Jane was on her own, and his punishment for choosing the wrong moral path, when he knew the true story, was to witness the destruction of his only child. Why destroy Jane? A clever lawyer would beat the charges, leaving her only with her reputation in tatters. That wasn’t enough punishment for her greatest crime. She was the first person I’d trusted, from age 12 to now. She’d abused that trust and I may never regain it. Still, I struggled with what I called my conscience. It’s smaller, harder and redder than the one you probably have. The clincher, was the memory of the practiced ease with which she dropped to the sheepskin in that lounge and presented herself to Todd and Bill. That wasn’t the action of someone trying something for the first time. That was the action of someone who wanted to include me in an established lifestyle, and was willing to create a make or break situation to force the issue. That, told me that the lifestyle was more important to her than the significant chance our marriage was over. Forget Jane. It’s a characteristic of people like me that we make a decision, act on it, then stop dwelling on the consequences. Ask any psychopath.

I rang the Denver number that 25 minutes’ research had pinpointed. A middle-aged female voice answered. “Penney residence, Paula speaking.”

“Can I speak to Anna please?”

“She’s out at…  Anna doesn’t live here anymore.” Why do daughters in distress always run to their mothers? Ah well, they tell me Colorado is lovely at this time of year. Todd was soon to have an appointment with a wimp he’d seriously misjudged.

Then, a change of identity. I’d like to be a David again. It made me feel so… normal.

Epilogue

A loving husband and wife are sharing a couch. The wife is lying down, with her head in her husband’s lap. She is reading a magazine, held in one hand, while the other is rubbing her swollen fertile belly. Her husband is reading the newspaper.

“Hey, Lana. What was Chrissy and Bill’s surname, you know, the Chrissy you used to work with?”

“Smith, why, Jason?”

Jason couldn’t help chuckling, but forced a reply.

“You’re not going to believe what I’ve just read in the paper. Do we have any spare ‘thank you’ cards?”

The end

Once again, many thanks to GeorgeAnderson for lending me his characters. I know you’re supposed to return borrowed things in the same condition they were lent. Sorry George, I broke them.

Now lighten up. The following is for you old dudes out there who may be feeling unappreciated in the labor market.

A 55 year old technician is retrenched. Two weeks later, a machine breaks and no one can fix it. The whole factory grinds to a halt. They bring the technician back as a consultant. He opens the front of the machine, drags a chair up and stares at the innards of the machine all day. At the end of the day, he pulls a piece of chalk out of his pocket, chalks an X on one component and says, “Replace that.” They do and the machine works. The technician puts in an unitemized invoice for $50,000. The accounts payable department refuses to pay an unitemized bill, so the technician sends them a second one.

‘One chalk mark, $1. Knowing where to put chalk mark, $49,999.’