The Evisceration

By SemperAmare

First, friends, a confession. This is presented as a SemperAmare story, but was almost entirely written by me, the author known as Vandemonium1. After jointly developing the outline, my partner in crime, CreativityTakesCourage, became busy starting a new business and finishing her professional trilogy. She did edit it, though, and half the concept is hers.

You know, amusingly, some people have accused me and CTC of being the same person. Rather begs the question, doesn’t it? If I could write as well as her, why the f$%k would I keep writing badly as me?

This story has been independently rated 3.5 pickaxe handles on the BTB-ometer.

Now strap in and enjoy the ride.

*********

TODAY

THE NATIONAL INSTITUTE of the Dramatic Arts, NIDA, has a tradition. Whenever final year students are putting on a performance, old alumni are invited to be members of the audience. Then, at a post-production social event, budding actors, set designers, costume designers, prop makers etc., can rub shoulders with celebrities, both major and minor, to hopefully get honest feedback on their efforts and make connections beneficial to their future careers.

Thus, it was the actress and alumni—her name is not important and will be withheld for her protection—was mingling after the performance. She remembered back the near dozen years to her final year here and smiled. The intervening years had been exceptionally kind to her. Exposure in the local industry had quickly led to offers from Hollywood. She was now regarded well enough that she could pick and choose her roles. Her agent had just told her she’d been approached for a role as an escort. She was considering accepting that one for the pure devilment of it.

Just about everyone wanted to meet her, but she believed in the purpose of her invitation here and sought out members of the cast and crew to speak with and offer her feedback. A pretty, early twenties, girl introduced herself as Sarah, the set designer, and the actress complimented her on the innovative use of space and clever interchanges between sets. She was just about to move on when the girl leaned in a little.

“My father wants to know if you’ll have dinner with him tonight?”

“Young lady, many people want to have dinner with me. Here’s my agent’s card, ask him to…”

“He told me to tell you his name is Mr. X.”

The actress froze.

So, after all these years, what she’d secretly feared had come to pass. Fuck! Hang on a minute. The guy has a grown-up daughter. How bad can it be? Surely, he won’t demand sex if his child is involved.

On one level, she’d always been grateful to him. After all, it was he that suggested she become an actress in the first place. Until then, she’d never considered it.  She’d been an economics student when she met him. After his suggestion, she’d applied to NIDA and hardly ever looked back.

On another level, though, she’d always considered the guy a threat. Why? He’d been a client. Only once, but once was enough.

The actress thought of the contingency plans she’d developed over the years. One whiff of her past by the gutter press and she would be in full defence mode. She was big enough to survive it, probably, but it was a battle she didn’t want to have to fight.

Where was the harm in having dinner with the guy? Besides, ever since the first and only time they’d met, she’d burned with curiosity to know what it had all been about. Yes, where was the harm? She asked the girl where and when to meet the mysterious Mr. X. It was a restaurant not far from the hotel she was bunked in. The time allowed her to mingle for another hour, then go to the hotel, shower, and change. She rang first her lawyer, then her husband from the limo. Her husband demanded she ring as soon as the fourteen-year old mystery had been solved.

After a two-block walk to the restaurant, she was shown into a private dining room. Just before she entered, she put on a confident face to mask the nervousness she actually felt. If the guy was going to attempt blackmailing her into sex, she was going to call his bluff. Her lawyer already had the guy’s daughter’s name.

The door to the private room opened and a wave of relief swept over the actress.

There was the girl who’d been at NIDA, sitting next to another girl who appeared a year or so younger. Her eyes travelled to a late forties man she recognised from a single meeting fourteen years previously. Mr. X. The last member around the table was a lady she estimated was around the same age as the man. Mr. X stood and shook her hand, introducing himself as David Brown, before introducing his wife and daughters.

After ordering and consuming their mains, with the ladies asking the obligatory celebrity questions, Dave called for quiet. He announced that now that his youngest daughter, Wendy, was eighteen, he had a tale to tell. It was his side of the story only, and he was very glad the actress had agreed to join them to corroborate some of the details.

The actress looked over at the two younger girls and noticed the expectant looks on their faces. Then, she noticed that she herself was sitting on the edge of her seat. Smiling, she forced herself to relax. Dave looked nervous. Only Maria, his wife, looked relaxed. She held her husband’s hand for strength. After a squeeze, he looked at her, then forward again, before continuing his speech.

Dave explained the motivation for telling his strange tale. Partly, it was to fulfil a promise, he nodded toward the actress at that point, and put her mind at ease for the strange events of the decade and a half before and the knowledge that there was someone out there who could damage her image. She nodded her thanks at Dave.

Secondly, it was to tell his daughters, for the first time, why they hadn’t seen their birth mother for over fourteen years. He explained that he’d fully intended telling Sarah when she turned eighteen, but she’d never asked. That was a compliment to Maria, he said. She was obviously all the mother his daughters needed. After that explanation, he prewarned them that after telling them the story, he was going to beg their forgiveness for his unilateral actions of so long ago.

With his audience champing at the bit, Dave started at the beginning.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the country, a woman was lying sleepless in a cheap motel bed, listening to the snoring pig beside her, reviewing the mistakes she’s made that led to her current situation.

*********

MARTHA, PRESENT DAY

I DON’T THINK I was born entitled. More, I think, I developed a sense of entitlement from the easy course of my life. Born into a comfortable middle-class family, growing up I wanted for nothing. With next to no effort, I finished university with an arts degree and diploma of education. Daddy used his old-boy-network to land me my first post in a good school rather than me having to work my way up from the usual out-in-the-sticks shitholes.

I worked for five years, never settling on one hobby, one pastime, or one man. In short, I enjoyed sampling all life had to offer. I dipped my toe in any pond that appealed to me. Then, as I was nearing twenty-eight, daddy begged me to settle down and make something of my life. By this point, he was the chief aide to a federal Senator, and knew in his heart he himself would never make the top job. Perhaps, he wanted to achieve through me what he couldn’t achieve for himself, or, maybe, he saw in me something I hadn’t yet seen in myself. Regardless, over the course of an hour, he hooked me with stories of the power his boss wielded. Between us we came up with a plan to put me in the running to be our country’s first female Prime Minister within the next twenty years. 

The list included; successful career, family, joining a political party, a more visible connection to a mainstream church, and charitable works, to name but a few. With my new-found ambition, again things seemed easy.

Through a church committee, I met my future husband, but not in the way you think. I was attending a meeting in a side room of the church when I went into the apse to ask a workman redoing some of the antique woodwork to keep the noise down. He was on his knees with his back to me when I yelled to get his attention. He unfolded his tall frame, turned, and smiled. A waft of his musky scent hit my nostrils and appealed straight to my womanhood.

We were married less than a year later.

Yes, he was only a cabinetmaker, but it was a good honest trade and supplemented my salary well enough that we could afford a good house in the best end of town.

Kids were put on hold, when joining the local Liberal Party introduced me to several members of the board of an exclusive girls’ school. With their help, I attained the position of Deputy Head, then, Headmistress; a position I’d held for two years when I made the worst decision of my life.

That position was attained even though I’d taken two lots of twelve months leave for the births of my daughters. Sarah was born in 1998 and Wendy a dignified two years later. I wanted to return to work and a heavy schedule of committee and fundraising three months after each birth, but Daddy advised me to wait a year. The public, he told me, would judge me as a mother above practically everything else.

So, at the time this story really starts, Sarah was now six and Wendy four. The nice house had been traded for an even nicer house. I had a nice career as headmistress and was head of several charitable organisations. I swear the local church wouldn’t run without me, but, best of all, I was favourite to head our party’s ticket in the next state election, two years hence.

Life was wonderfully hectic, if a little exhausting at times. Three or four committee meetings each week, fundraisers, entertaining visiting church dignitaries, you name it. Through all of that I was expected to look good and keep a smile ready for any cameras.

I couldn’t have done it all without Dave, though. Being self-employed, he could start work as early as he liked so that he was home in time to pick the girls up from school and daycare. He then looked after them while I was away in the evenings. To be honest, he did the vast bulk of the weekend entertaining as well. I was usually busy elsewhere or resting before starting it all again on Monday. As a New Year’s resolution, the year my marriage ended, I vowed to devote more time to Dave and the girls but after being absent for much of their lives, well, I felt a bit of an outsider. Other pressures then forced me away from them again.

On top of all my other duties, I also had to keep up my professional teaching accreditation. That meant attending two conferences a year. The last of which that particular year, I forgot to tell Dave about until the last minute. How was I to know he’d organised a babysitter for the entire weekend, having planned a romantic get-to-know-Martha-again weekend? He was disappointed, to say the least, when I told him I had different plans, but I knew he’d get over it. He always did.

The conference meant I’d be away Friday and Saturday nights, so I promised him we’d have our own party Sunday night. He didn’t look impressed and hardly spoke to me before I left to attend. I vowed to myself to be more understanding in future. A divorce at this point would be close to disastrous.

Unusually, Dave didn’t ring Friday night. I put it down to him still being peeved. When he called me on Saturday I thought he was over his sulk. It was late, well after suppertime, when the phone in the room rang. In the immediate wake of the call, I thought I was in a difficult but not unsalvageable position. Now, I know my fate was decided at that moment, barring one future decision.

The conversation started normally enough with each of us enquiring about the other’s day. I was in the middle of something and, as I said, it was late, so I tried to end the call as quickly as I could. Maybe the wine I’d had at dinner didn’t help my cause. Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m a cheap drunk. What is known in the local vernacular as ‘a two-pot screamer’. I’m pretty sure the last few sentences went something along the lines of.

“I have to go now, Dave, darling. The first seminar starts at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Shall I tell the girls you miss them?”

“Of course. Give them a kiss from me.”

“Will do. Say hi to Allen for me.”

“Okay, I’ll- WHAT?” The last to the dial tone.

Oh, I forgot to tell you about Allen, didn’t I? Well, not to put too fine a point on it, Allen was my lover and had been for nearly a year.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to take a lover but, looking back on it, I had everything else I desired, so why not? Allen worked for the public relations company the party hired to look after me. We worked closely together. He arranged all my meetings with the media and was basically responsible for my public persona. One weekend away, while I was on a high from pulling off a big sponsorship deal for a charity I helped, we became lovers. I’d celebrated with one too many wines and we’d just fallen into bed and gone for it.

The next day I was terrified at what the repercussions would be if I’d been caught. The end of my political aspirations was a given. The next few days I was on alert for a leak, but nothing was ever said. I relaxed.

The trouble was, it didn’t end there. Allen was young, attractive, and, ah, vigorous in bed. The naughtiness and slight risk made it very thrilling and, in truth, I don’t think the idea of not keeping it up ever seriously crossed my mind. The sex was still vibrant after a year, possibly because we only met a couple of times a month. I’d worked hard for years and deserved some luxuries. The fact that Dave had worked equally hard, if not harder, on the family side, never entered my head. I may not have been born with a sense of entitlement, but I sure had developed one.

On that night, Allen, sitting naked on my bed listening to me talking to Dave, would have seen my face fall and my jaw drop. We quickly decided this was the worst crisis yet. Allen shut me down when I wondered aloud how we’d been caught. I’m not stupid and had always been incredibly careful. I even had a checklist that I mentally completed before every tryst: meetings had to be out of our town, disguises had to be worn, and Dave’s whereabouts had to be known with certainty. When travelling, separate rooms with interconnecting doors were always used. One thing was certain; when I went back to my husband, not a smell, taste, or anything physical of Allen would go home with me. I knew that if Dave ever suspected I had a lover, Allen would be the main candidate, so, whenever we were together we were incredibly careful.

Except for that weekend.

As the trip was not strictly politically oriented, Allen had no business being at my hotel, but seeing as Dave was committed to the Sarah’s soccer finals all weekend, I calculated there was zero chance of him turning up. As long as I was careful getting Allen into and out of my room, it was risk free.

Or so I thought.

That’s why Dave’s casual words and my inadvertent admission, whether because of the wine or the fact Allen kept me awake the night before, shook me to the core.

It took me a while to remember I had a contingency plan for this. Even with the late hour, I called Daddy and he called his lawyer. 

*********

I KNOW NOW I should probably have handled things differently. I suspect, that if I’d gone straight home, told Dave my affair was over, and thrown myself on his mercy, he may have forgiven me. He was incredibly family oriented. It was just the one affair, after all. I’ll never know if the extremely vicious assault Dave launched on me shortly after this time was inevitable from this point, or whether my reaction to being caught caused it all.

Daddy was horrified at what I’d done and pointed out that I’d handed Dave the power to destroy all my hard work. He told me he’d arrange to get me on the next flight home and told me to pack and get my ass to the airport.

Allen’s reaction to the whole episode was surprising, although, maybe it shouldn’t have been. I suppose, to intensify the experience for myself, I’d pretended to have deep feelings for him. His reaction certainly proved he loved me. It was a pitiful sight, seeing him beg me to leave my husband and marry him. This gave me pause for thought but not for long. I didn’t love him, I loved Dave. Yes, I was very fond of him. Yes, it was very flattering to be with a younger man, and, yes, it was very empowering to have a lover, however secret. But leave my husband for him? Not going to happen.

Besides, having a partner over ten years my junior, that I’d dumped my husband and broken up my family for, would make me a laughing stock and destroy any chance of salvaging my career. I did, however, feel sorry that I’d allowed him to fall in love with me so completely, therefore, I threw him a bone. He was away for the next week, so I promised to come to see him when he got back, after my home situation had stabilised. Just because my husband had apparently found out I had a lover, well, that didn’t mean I had to stop, did it? Only if my husband insisted and threatened to weaponise that knowledge, I suppose.

I won’t bore you with details, but my father, his lawyer, my sister and I arrived at my family home just as Dave and the girls were leaving the house Sunday morning to go to the zoo. Between us, we forced Dave back into the house while my sister took the girls.

I was tired, and we hadn’t rehearsed, so I left the talking up to Daddy and the lawyer. Initially, Dad hadn’t liked my choice of a mere tradesman as a partner, but Dave was so likeable that he’d soon gotten over his reservations. They’d gotten on fine over the years, even becoming friends of sorts. Given a choice, however, between that friendship and supporting me, Dad didn’t hesitate in choosing sides. I must say, I felt a little sorry for Dave being subject to the assault he was.

Daddy opened the argument with a review of expectations. He surmised that Dave had obviously expected me to be faithful and maybe that had been an unreasonable expectation, given the disparity in our social classes, earning capacities, and achievements. I was a little horrified at this approach. Blind Freddy could see the devastation I’d caused my husband and that hurt me. I was sorry for that hurt and I tried to make eye contact with Dave to convey this, but he just looked defeatedly at the table in front of him.

And what an assault it was. I’m glad I wasn’t on the receiving end. There were threats of gag orders, writs, libel and slander suits. Dave showed no emotion throughout. Ditto when my father asked what evidence he had of my infidelity. He practically admitted he had none. In fact, it turned out he wasn’t even sure I was having an affair until I inadvertently admitted it on Saturday night. Putting the pieces together much later, I believe that all my precautions had been for nought. A friend of Dave’s had overheard Allen bragging about bedding me and tipped Dave off. Not fully believing it, Dave threw in his statement, “Say hi to Allen for me,” to see what shook out of the trees. The realisation of the shock he must have felt when I answered as I did, rocked my conscience to the core.

Daddy had no such conscience, however. After asking the lawyer to leave the room, he intimated that to save my reputation, evidence of Dave’s infidelity might have to be fabricated. Dave showed no emotional reaction to that either.

In fact, I was thinking he’d completely emotionally shut down until the lawyer came back in and went on about the mother always getting custody and the current trend for the father to only get access to the kids every second weekend. I watched his face harden but turned away when his gaze focused on me. I couldn’t face that. He didn’t in any way deserve what was happening to him. He loved his girls. Doted on them and spent every available hour he could raising them. That’s why I could afford to be absent from the family home so much.

The assault ended with Dad telling Dave that myself and the girls would be staying with him for a few days so that he, Dave, would get an idea of how lonely life would be if he didn’t toe-the-line. We would return on Tuesday evening, so I could prepare for our annual masquerade party. Daddy assumed Dave would pretend everything was normal by then and not spoil such a huge event that was designed to showcase our happy family.

As a parting shot, Daddy promised Dave he would back me to the hilt financially, while making sure his lawyers hamstrung Dave financially, restricting his access to quality legal advice. Dad pulled no punches. Whatever became of my relationship with my husband, Dad’s was gone forever. When I left, Dave looked utterly defeated. If it wasn’t crippling my conscience so much, I might have been happy. I hugged him, in his chair, from behind and whispered, “We’ll be alright, darling”, but got no reaction at all.

Away from the prying ears of his lawyer, Daddy tore strips off me about my affair. I think he was letting off steam for what he’d just done to a man he’d always respected. He warned me if Dave ever collected any evidence of impropriety on my part, the game would be over. I assured him I was too smart for that.

********

WHEN THE GIRLS and I returned to the family home on Tuesday night, it was to a warm greeting for the girls, but an icy-cold reception for me. I knew it would be an uncomfortable homecoming and I’d actually considered delaying it, but two factors forced my hand. The first was that Daddy was leaving on his annual fishing trip the following day. Every year, he and three friends hired a shack in the middle of the bush and went totally off-grid for a week. The second was the need to get the house ready for the party on Saturday night.

Dave hardly acknowledged my presence. After the girls were in their beds, I apologised for my affair. Dave just stood and moved to the guest room on the ground floor where he’d obviously been sleeping. Through the closed and locked door, I reassured him.

I fully intended dropping Allen immediately, but after several phone calls from him in the previous two days, I realised that with his emotional attachment to me, he posed a slight threat to my career as well. He, unlike Dave, didn’t have to prove anything. Just the accusation would be damaging, therefore, I decided to keep seeing him in the short term but end it as soon as I could guarantee safety. Continuing to sleep with him while acting the bitch so he wouldn’t enjoy my company seemed the best course of action. I tried to explain this to Dave through the locked door, along with my intention to be late home the following Monday due to the necessity of seeing Allen, but with no answer and no facial clues I have no idea how successful I was.

I didn’t have time to dwell on that, though. I had a house to prepare for a party.

The party. Ever since moving into our mini-mansion eight years prior, we’d hosted a masquerade party. It was held on no special day and was designed purely to butter up the movers and shakers in the community. That and showcase what a happy, healthy family I had. Dad never attended as he didn’t want me to be seen as being in his shadow.

I’m happy and proud to say that, with advice from some professionals, the event had morphed into one of the must-be-seen-at events of the social calendar. There was a DJ and dance floor, the house was decorated, and the booze flowed.

Much thought went into the guest list. Every single attendee could help my career in some way. It was such an important event that ensuring Dave’s full participation and cooperation would be my primary focus over the following couple of days.

To cut a long story short, I did get his grudging acknowledgement that he would attend and participate. What a relief that was. The interaction stopped there, however. He pretty much ignored me the rest of the time. I couldn’t dwell on the tension too much, though. With no help from Dave, organising the party was a fulltime job.   

*********

I SUPPOSE I was exhausted by Saturday night from a full-on week of being in crisis mode. That’s why I drank too much. I had two wines to loosen me up before Allen came around. Of course, he had to be there. He was my publicist, after all. It was hard work keeping him and Dave apart, or so I thought.

My memories of greeting all the guests at the front door are clear. As the hostess, I wanted to stand out. Sure, it was a masquerade ball, but everyone should be in no doubt who the hostess was. Over fifty movers and shakers attended. Most of the members of my school board, the local bishop, local politicians and influential members of the party. There were even two judges.

With all guests ensconced, serving the food commenced. I remember mingling as everyone lined up to get their forkfuls of professionally spit-roasted pig. I rarely relaxed at these things, they were far too important. This year was particularly stressful due to the need to keep Dave and Allen apart.

What finally eased the tension was Dave offering me a glass of punch about two and a half hours in. His whispered words of having added a dash of vodka to relax me, warmed my heart. I took that as an olive branch, so accepted, then drank it. The latter reluctantly, though. I was already over my self-imposed, cheap drunk limit, but I was so glad of Dave’s gesture that I downed it immediately. Shortly after that, things got hazy and the next memory I have is waking, in my bed, the next day, with a wicked hangover.

As soon as I was able with a pounding head, I found Dave and sought reassurance that I hadn’t embarrassed myself. He told me I’d mingled until about an hour before the party broke up, then he’d seen me asleep on our bed. Everyone was merry and too preoccupied to miss my absence. In his words, I’d done nothing out of character. Relaxed at the news, I tried to find my cell phone to network a little and apologise for missing church. It was nowhere to be found and we’d long since surrendered our landline. To ease my pounding head, I stayed in bed for the rest of the day and dozed.

As a consequence of sleeping so much, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by 5:00 a.m. the next day. I rose, sorely in need of coffee. The light was on in the kitchen and Dave was sitting at the table. He made not a move when I entered and kissed him on the top of the head. Below is what I remember of our conversation. He hasn’t spoken to me face-to-face since then.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked.

He just looked at me a little incredulously.

“Since I confirmed that the woman I love wholeheartedly, and who I thought loved me, was stabbing me in the back, I have hardly slept a wink.”

In hindsight, I know I should probably have acted in a conciliatory manner to that statement; instead I snapped. I guess it was the accumulation of days and nights of feeling guilty on top of being pissed off from a lack of memory of the party and a wasted day in bed.

“Isn’t it you that’s always saying that if you can’t do something about a problem, don’t sweat it. Dad explained how the future was going to go. Accept it and get on with life.”

Dave was absolutely rigid in the chair. His next words came out as a hiss. His eyes blazed and bored into mine.

“What? Accept the life of a cuckold?”

He stopped speaking, obviously struggling to maintain control. I thought I’d ease his mind some.

“Just for the moment, dear. It’ll be over before you know it. That reminds me, remember I’ll be home late tonight; I’m seeing Allen.”

Dave leapt to his feet so fast his chair toppled backwards and hit the floor with a loud slam. In the split second that followed, the silence seemed quieter for the contrast. Dave stood with his arms at his side, and, as I watched, began clenching and unclenching his fists. Each movement made a rustling sound as his fists moved against the fabric of his trousers. If I wasn’t so sure of Daddy’s precautions, I may have been genuinely worried. Dave had gone beyond a hiss and was practically spitting.

“Do you really think I’ll settle for the life of a humiliated man? A man with no pride and no choices? Do you? I know your dad lives his life by the motto, Cuis testiculos habes habeas cardia et cerebellum, ‘If you have someone by the balls, their hearts and minds will soon follow,’but not this little black duck, I’m not now, nor ever will be, built that way.”

With that he stormed out for his morning run. I sat there and thought about what he’d said. Was there an angle I’d missed? Did he have any choice but to toe-the-line? I didn’t think so. I shrugged and started a serious search for my phone. I eventually found it, but it was as flat as a tack, so I put it on the charger. I prepared Sarah’s school lunch as a gesture of reconciliation to Dave, then prepared for work. The kids were awake before he came home, so we didn’t have a chance to talk again. I left. If I’d known what was going to happen that day and all the days from then until now, I’d have at least hugged Dave’s kids.  

*********

DAVE

“If the end result wasn’t the destruction of my marriage and a major hiatus in your, my children’s lives, that Monday would have been very satisfying. You’ve heard what your mum did to me and it’s important that you understand what I did next and why I did it.

“There was no doubt in my mind that I was the major influence in your lives and with the decision made to terminate the marriage, you’d be better off with me. I always knew your birth mother was an ambitious, self-centred person, but, up until then, I’d been proud of her achievements and made allowances for her shortcomings as a wife and mother. That all ended with her affair. Her stated intention of keeping it going confirmed to me how egocentric she’d become. The trouble was the courts couldn’t be relied on to agree with me. I consulted several solicitors and each and every one of them agreed my chances were less than even of getting primary custody. They all said, though, that if I could get Martha to abandon the family home, then the odds would swing heavily in my favour. I realised I had to do something so horrific she would run.

“Ironically, it was Martha’s father and solicitor that handed me the solution. They did such a good job of telling me what alleys they’d blocked that I didn’t even think of escape. They thought they’d left me one avenue that was palatable, but it wasn’t to me. Being basically law-abiding citizens, they didn’t even consider the path I chose as a possibility.”

“So, what did you do, Dad?”

“I’ll get to that. I’ll describe the phone calls I got from your birth mother that day. The first was a little after 9:00 a.m.”

THEN 9:06 a.m.

“Dave speaking”

“Dave, it’s me. Allen’s company boss just rang me. He told me that because of what I did to Allen at the party on Saturday, his company would no longer represent me. If word of that gets out, it could damage my chances of getting preselection. What happened? What did I allegedly do to Allen? They wouldn’t tell me.”

“There’s nothing alleged about it, dear. You kneed him in the balls in front of about thirty witnesses. I’ve got it all on film from the security cameras if you want to watch it.”

“I didn’t…”

“Sorry, dear, I have to go.”

THEN 10:23 a.m.

“Dave speaking.”

“Dave, what aren’t you telling me? The secretary of the diocese just rang. I’ve been asked to resign from all the church committees I’m on. I mean, not just give up the chairmanships, but get off the committees altogether. They wouldn’t say why. What happened Saturday night? What did I do after I drank too much?”

“I imagine that the bishop told his people to distance you from his church ASAP because he caught that guy with his fingers in your panties on Saturday. You know? In our downstairs bathroom.”

“What? Why…”

“Sorry. dear, I have to go.”

THEN 10:42 a.m.

“Oh, Dave. I just checked the messages on my phone. Half the people I know rang to tell me what a bitch I am and asking how I could do that to you. Do what to you, Dave? What are they talking about?”

“I’m not sure, dear. Maybe they’re talking about you dirty dancing, or, should I say, practically fucking that guy on the dance floor. They were a little embarrassed for me when they saw that. Or maybe it’s because when they asked me why I wasn’t stopping you, I told them you’d demanded the right to screw other men and threatened to break me and our family if I objected publicly.”

“You didn’t?”

“I most certainly did. You and your dad thought you’d left me with only one option—to go along with your sick and sordid little plan. I found another viable way, and all it cost me was a little public humiliation. Okay, after tomorrow’s newspaper comes out, a lot of humiliation.”

“But, Dave, when I asked you on Sunday if I’d behaved myself during the times I had no memory of, you said yes.”

“I think you heard what you wanted to hear, dear. What I actually said was you did nothing out of character and I’ll stick to that. I’m led to believe that all sluts behave that way.”

“I…I…I don’t know how I could have lost control like that. Can you call the bishop and other people to tell them that it wasn’t really me? That I lose control if I drink too much.”

“Why would I do that for you, dear?”

“Because you’re my husband and husband’s go in to bat for their wives.”

“Like you went in to bat for me, when your dad and his attack dog described how they would eviscerate me if I didn’t let you screw other men?”

“Look, Dave. You know it wasn’t like that. I made a mistake and was acting as quickly as I could to extricate myself from the consequences. I only slept with Allen and I was only going to do that one or two more times. Three at the most.

“Look, Dave. Is there any way you could get home, so we can talk? I’ve just got to hang around for another hour. The head of the school board is on his way to talk to me.”

“Yes, and I know what she wants to talk about. She and most of the board were there on Saturday night, remember? I don’t fancy your chances. She went through that messy divorce a couple of years ago, didn’t she? When she caught her husband cheating on her? Besides, I am at home. I’ve just finished an interview with the local newspaper and television network. I even gave them footage from the security cameras. Now, if there’s nothing else, dear. I have to do some more thinking on whether there is any aspect of your life that I haven’t totally destroyed yet.”

*********

A RESTAURANT IN THE PRESENT DAY. DAVE WRAPS UP HIS STORY.

“There was only silence on the line after that. I went to work, then picked up you girls. When we got home, there was evidence that your mother had returned, packed some clothes, and headed off in a hurry. She’d even left the front door swinging open.

“She went into hiding a couple of states away, with another sister. She was too embarrassed to show her face in public for months. By the time she re-surfaced, the judge ruled that she’d abandoned the family home and awarded custody to me.”

“Didn’t her father do anything to help her?”

“No, nothing to speak of. When he re-appeared after his fishing trip, he did ring to threaten me, but only the once. Reading between the lines, I gather his boss told him to either distance himself from his own child or resign. He chose the latter and retired. Whether he couldn’t afford the lawyers, or they advised him it was a lost cause, I’ll never know, but we never heard from his legal team again. I’m a little ashamed to say this, but he was still begging to see his grandchildren when he died of a heart attack about a year after all this went down.”

“Your birth mother begged me to bring you girls to where she was hiding a few times, but by then I’d met Maria, the only mum you remember, and didn’t want to confuse you. I hear she got into some bad company after that and I kind of lost track of her. I could try to find her contact details if you would like to look her up.”

Neither young adult seemed overly interested in that offer.

“And that, girls, is why you shouldn’t drink.”

All eyes turned to the actress.

“Um, girls. With what your dad has just told us, I think I know what happened and why he invited me here today. You see, he once promised to tell me the whole story. Truth be told, I’m amazed this hasn’t been dug up by the paparazzi before now. Before I continue, please promise you won’t repeat a word I say.”

After waiting for confirmatory nods all round, she continued.

“I’d never even considered being an actress before your dad suggested it. Like many orphans, I really struggled financially in college. I took to doing some high-end escort work. My friend got me into it. Before you turn your nose up at me, I mean escort in the old-fashioned sense. All I did was accompany guys out on dates. It might be the company dinner or just some lonely businessman in town for the day, looking for companionship. I’m sure some of the girls went further than that for a price, but the agency I was with never encouraged it. Anyway, I didn’t need to. With my looks, and, I’m told, my bubbly personality, I was well sought after as a companion.

“Anyway, one day my representatives brokered a meeting between myself and a guy that introduced himself as Mr. X., your father. We met once, and he said I’d do. I always wanted to know why he picked me.”

She looked at Dave expectantly.

“Because I trawled through all the escort websites until I found someone who could pass as my ex-wife at a masquerade party.”

“Of course. Well, I was going to say no but for the amount of money your dad was offering, I ended up taking the risk. I wouldn’t have, but your dad said I could bring my boyfriend along as well.”

The actress paused to take a sip of her drink, checking her planned words for threats to her career.

“Your dad told me to be near a certain address at 9:00 p.m. When he called, Kent and I walked from our car to the back gate where your dad let us in. He handed me a dress and a mask.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but I want everyone to get the full story. The party was well under way and just about everyone was very merry. Um, that may have been helped by my spiking the punch bowl with two bottles of vodka. It was comical watching HER trying to act the good hostess but always standing between me and her boyfriend. I saw her drinking steadily and timed when I gave her the doctored drink pretty well, I reckon. I crushed up three of her own sleeping pills and slipped them into a glass of punch. I even told her about the vodka. It took her about ten minutes, but when I saw her stumbling, I gently led her to our bedroom. She was fast asleep in minutes, so I removed her dress and mask. The final touch was for you to use the same perfume she always wore.”

The actress nodded as if this made perfect sense, then took up her tale again.

“I slipped on the dress. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but no one seemed to notice. I applied a little of the perfume and the mask. I expected to be led to the party on your father’s arm and for Kent to amuse himself, but it was way weirder than that. After a few simple instructions, your dad told Kent and I to have fun, make like we were a couple but to avoid talking to anyone.

“The last was a little difficult but we decided to hit the dance floor to discourage conversation. Suffice it to say, Kent and I danced very close and the dirty prick had his hands all over my ass. I kept glancing around and most people were looking at us very uncomfortably then looking toward your dad. He didn’t seem to pay us any attention. There was one guy that kept trying to cut in on Kent, but your dad had warned us not to let him.

“After about five dances, I went to the loo and Kent, the randy prick, followed me in. After I’d done my business, he lifted me so my ass was on the vanity then kissed me and lifted my dress, and, well, I can’t believe I’m admitting to this, especially to you girls, but he stimulated me with his fingers. I’m sure he was going to go much further than that, but just then a guy barged into the room, obviously desperate for a leak. He went bright red when he saw us and ran away.”

“He was a big guy with a red beard, wasn’t he?”

“I think so.”

“Bishop Carling.”

“Oh my god. Well, that event even put Kent off getting it on in the bathroom. We started heading back to the dance floor, but the randy prick got over his, ah, reticence, and dragged me off into the shadows of some trees. We started making out and he had my dress lifted from behind when a floodlight came on and everything went quiet. We turned to see everyone looking at us. What could we do? We just headed back to the dance floor.

“That guy your dad showed me a photograph of continued trying to cut in. Kept calling me darling and sweetheart even after I told him to piss off.

“It was about then that I looked over and saw a bunch of people surrounding your dad. They didn’t look happy. Kind of accusing really.”

She paused to look at Dave with raised eyebrows.

“Well, first the bishop, then the head of her school board came over and asked what the deal was with my wife. I want you to know, girls, I didn’t lie. I told the absolute truth when I said SHE demanded the right to do whatever she liked with other men. Then, I went on to explain how I’d discovered her latest affair and how she and her father had threatened me with utter ruin, even fabricating evidence against me if I made waves.”

He smiled at the memory.

“They could tell from the sincerity in my voice that I was telling the absolute truth.”

“That makes sense. At one point all the people gathered around your dad turned and glared daggers at me. It was really uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. There was so much outrage right then, it could have powered a small war for a month. I don’t know if the bishop was going to say anything about what he saw in the toilet until you were pinpointed by the security spotlight I turned on, but he certainly unloaded after that. No-one could believe that my prissy, upwardly mobile wife could behave like that. I think every wife and even a few of the husbands hugged me in the next few minutes. That all came to an end when the next cabaret on the dance floor happened.”

“Do you have to tell them about that? I’m not particularly proud of it.”

“You tell them then.”

The actress paused to recollect the correct sequence of events from so many years ago.

“Well, Kent and I were just minding our own business, you know, on the dance floor. People started coming up and whispering to other people. Pretty soon the number of dancers had halved, and even more people were staring at me and Kent. Then that little dickhead your father showed us a photo of came up, grabbed me by the arm, and tried to drag me away. I’d had enough. I turned and kneed him right in the… you-know-what’s.

“It was hilarious. He did what they do in the movies, you know, his eyes crossed, and he started sinking to his knees. He must have tried to stop himself sinking, because he reached out to grab me. Kent, well, Kent has always been the protective type. I married him, you know? He grabbed the guy’s arm, swung him round, and belted him. Lifted him clear off his feet it did and dumped him on his ass. The guy just sat there with one hand on his face and one on his, er, nether regions. Everyone started clapping. It was quite bizarre. That was your ex’s lover, I presume.”

“Yes. Allen was his name. I may have told people he was her lover and that was why he kept trying to butt in.”

“What happened to him?”

“Well, the party pretty much broke up after that. Just about everyone came up to me and asked if they could do anything. One of the judges actually suggested I get my lawyer to look up the definition of mental cruelty. I just told them to do what they knew was right. Allen was one of the last to go. I caught him limping away, and, well, relieved a little of my anger and frustration on him before he went.

“I heard later that his company found out the full story and quietly let him go. He’d been with them since he graduated, and they refused to give him a reference. He moved states and was working in a McDonalds the last I heard. After that, I lost interest.”

Sarah addressed the actress.

“Did you see any of this?”

“I hung around to the end, but I didn’t see the creepy man again. Your dad reappeared and gave me the balance of the money he owed me. I did ask him what the evening had been all about, but he was obviously upset by this stage and just said he’d tell me one day. Kent and I turned to go, but your Dad gave us a smile through his tears and suggested I’d missed my calling and should be an actress. Believe it or not, that got me thinking, and within two weeks I’d applied to NIDA. Acceptance followed soon after. Money talks, as they say. Now, I have to go and ring Kent. He’s champing at the bit back in LA. He asked me to tell him the story as soon as I knew it. Said he’d wait up all night if he had to.”

The actress stood to say her goodbyes.

“Goodbye, Sarah. I’ll be watching your career with interest. If you need a leg up at any time, please give me a ring.

“Wendy. If you decide to follow your sister and have trouble, don’t hesitate to ask for help. They owe me about a dozen favours at NIDA.

“Maria, look after your husband and these two scallywags. They’re special, all of them.”

Wiping tears from her eyes, she turned back to the younger girls.

“From what your dad said, he had your best interests at heart and did what he had to do when the odds were stacked against him. When he asks for your forgiveness, I suggest you give it unreservedly.”

She was too overcome for words when she turned to face Dave, so, she just hugged him, then fled before she lost it.

After watching her retreating back, the girls exchanged looks, then Wendy nodded to Sarah, who addressed their dad.

“No need to ask, Dad. We forgive you. We hardly remember our birth mother. You were always father and mother to us when we lived there. Then Maria came along and taught us what a mother should be like.”

They all rose for a group hug. Dave, who’d never masked his emotions from those he loved was crying unashamedly.

“Thanks, girls, I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but you can never be sure, can you? I don’t know why I doubted myself. Just look at you both. Beautiful, self-confident, healthy, and wise. I must have done something right.”

Now everyone was crying. All three women telling Dave he’d been an exemplary Dad.

The waiter coughed behind them. He was holding a large crème caramel dessert. Dave looked at Maria who returned his look, shaking her head, silently denying she’d ordered it.

After placing it on the table, the waiter handed Dave a note. It read simply, “A hard shell, but a soft, sweet centre.”

Dave passed it to Maria who laughed her sweet laugh.

“Looks like she didn’t fall for your tough man act either.”

*********

EPILOGUE

Three time zones away, Martha was still lying awake, trying desperately not to awaken the overweight slob beside her.

When her meagre share from the divorce ran out, she’d tried getting a teaching job, without references, in her new state. After a three-month bridging course, she’d been allowed to practice but was only offered positions in small schools in shithole bush towns. They paid the bills, but she was desperate to get back to a city. With the public school system not an option, she’d resorted to desperate measures to get into something private.

The guy lying next to her was the head of the board of an exclusive girl’s school and if she didn’t wake him, hopefully he wouldn’t have time to fuck her again before he had to leave. The mere thought almost made Martha dry reach in her mouth. Sticking to the plan was hard sometimes. That plan being to get a job she was proud of, so she could finally hunt down her daughters and become part of their lives. It had taken nigh on a decade and a half, but she’d finally realised what was important. She rolled carefully onto her side, her silent tears soaking the pillow.

THE END

NOW, TO EASE YOUR JOURNEY FROM FICTION BACK TO COLD, HARD REALITY…

Hi, mate, I don’t want you to panic but I’m texting you from the casualty.

Turns out the new Dyson Ball cleaner isn’t what I thought it was.

And now a joke from me (CreativityTakesCourage). Below is a genuine, unedited, Amazon review on VEET For Men Hair Removal Gel sent to me by a friend. I thought I’d share it with you.

After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly succesful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits. Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus’s birthday as a bit of a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North sea I considerd myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types…oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was. I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen.
I didn’t have long to wait. At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head. Religion hadn’t featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the destruction of the meat and two veg. Struggling to not bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel of in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief. I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, tore the lid of and positioned it under me.
The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing soon returned .Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn’t managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the drawer for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon. I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse. This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found it’s way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running it’s engines behind me. This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.
The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before. unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering…” Ooooh that feels good “. Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn’t heard her come in it caused an involutary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction. I can understand that having a sprout farted against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn’t the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn’t improve my status…So to sum it up Veet removes hair, dignity and self respect…:)