TITLE    : My Wife Fucked Him on the High Seas
STORYID  : my-wife-fucked-him-on-the-high-seas
SUMMARY  : But he who fucks last fucks best.
AUTHOR   : Ephesus14@lit
DATE     : 2019-04-26
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |cheating wife|cheating wives|cruising|wife|husband|


<i>This story is a work of fiction. The actions of the characters and the results of those actions, may, therefore, not be in keeping with reality; especially the legal stuff. There is not much sex. </i>



*****



My wife fucked him on the high seas...

But he who fucks last fucks best.



Her name was Catherine and she died at 2:18 in the afternoon. In three more days she would have been seven. It was a beautiful day and just short of the 15 months they had given her to live when they diagnosed her with Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (DIPG). I had brought her birthday presents to her hospital room for her to open because we were told that she wouldn't make it to her birthday. 



My wife of ten years, Sharon, was holding her right hand and I was holding her left as she died. 



After Catherine died, Sharon fell into a deep depression which lasted almost a year. She slept in Catherine's bed, she washed and ironed Catherine's clothes, she even ate some of her meals in Catherine's room; and she refused to have sex telling me that she didn't want to take a chance on getting pregnant and having another child. I offered to use protection, but still she refused. She wanted no part of me and didn't want me near her. She wouldn't speak more than was necessary and she stopped sleeping in our bed altogether. 



I finally forced her to seek help; which seemed to help a bit. 



Another three months passed and she seemed to be going in the direction of her old self...but we still hadn't had sex. My frustration was such that as she got better, I got worse. I had been patient and understanding; and I was accepting of her extended grieving process. But I was grieving, too. It's just that I recognized the need to wake up every morning and get through the day. 



One day she came to me and told me that she wanted to visit her sister and family in Alabama.



"Uh... okay... I'll take some time off."



"No. I need some time to myself."



"Yourself? You'll be with your sister, her husband, and three kids. How's that being by yourself?"



"It'll be okay. She'll give me space."



"Haven't I given you space?"



"It's not the same."



"How long will you be gone?"



"I don't know. A few weeks."



"A few weeks? Why so long?"



"Don't rush me, Ray." And she walked away.



She drove off in the early morning four days later. It was an 11 hour drive and I was not surprised when she didn't call me to tell me she had arrived. We talked one time the first week she was gone.



We didn't talk at all the second week and I let still another week go by before calling. Her sister's husband, Josh, answered.



"Hello."



"Hey, Josh. This is Ray. Could I speak to Sharon?"



"She isn't here, Ray. She and Lisa went on a cruise."



"She what?"



"She and Lisa went on a cruise. Didn't she tell you?"



"No. What cruise line and from where?"



"Carnival out of Mobile."



"How long is the cruise?"



"Seven days."



"When did they leave?"



"They left an hour ago. They wanted to do some shopping in Mobile; but the ship doesn't leave until tomorrow."



That sucks, I thought as I hung up the phone. Not only does it suck, but I was having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that she hadn't told me about something as big as this. I realized we weren't communicating very well... but a cruise? 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark' to quote William Shakespeare. I decided to find out what it was.



"Good morning. Carnival Cruise Lines."



"Good morning. Can I still get a cabin on your cruise out of Mobile tomorrow?"



"No, sir; but you can join the ship in The Cayman Islands and enjoy the rest of the itinerary if you would like."



"Okay. Let's do that." And just like that I was booked on a cruise. I didn't have much of a selection of cabins, however. The only cabins available were either very expensive suites or cabins in the very back of the ship. I chose one in the back.



I own my own business. I think I was one of the first 'Two Men and a Truck' services. I had been in the business for 12 years so I had men in trucks in our home city of Ponca City as well as Tulsa, Oklahoma City, and Lawton in Oklahoma as well as Wichita, Kansas. I called my assistant in to my office and told her that I was taking a few days off and she was in charge. My bookkeeper usually wrote the checks, so both bills and employees would get paid in my absence.



Then I called and got plane reservations to George Town, Cayman Islands. There was no commercial service out of Ponca City so I had to go to Oklahoma City.



Overreacting? Maybe. But the last year had been difficult for both of us and if she was continuing to have problems coping, I wanted to be able to help. That was my job.



I called Josh again. "Do you know their cabin number?"



"Not off hand, but I can find it." I waited while he looked for it, found it, and gave it to me. "Thank, you. By the way, has she said anything about me or acted... differently... in any way?"



"Honestly? She hasn't had anything good to say about you."



"Okay, Josh. Thank you. I guess."



Sharon and I hadn't travelled a lot. Hawaii for our honeymoon and Italy when we learned she was pregnant. Neither of us had ever cruised before so I was surprised at the size of the ship when I saw it. I had arrived the night before and watched as it came into view early in the morning. I asked someone on the pier where the ship would dock and was told that it was too big to dock in town so they would drop their anchor and ferry the passengers in. I was also told that I could go out on a ferry and get on board after they got all the passengers ashore... those who wanted to come ashore, that is. So I stood there and watched as each group of passengers unloaded. 



She was on the fifth ferry. After about half of the passengers had gotten off, a tall, suntanned man in sandals, white slacks, very colorful shirt, and a Panama hat stepped off. He stopped, turned, and took the hand of the lady behind him and held it as she stepped onto the wooden pier. I was close enough to hear her speak.



"Why, thank you, kind sir. Your chivalry shall not go unrewarded." Sharon said to her knight.



"The same reward as last night, I would hope." He said as he tipped his Panama.



"Only if you play your cards right." She said giggling as she grabbed his arm and they walked down the pier toward the street.



I stood there and watched them go. I have no idea how she missed seeing me or why I didn't say anything. I left my suitcase as I walked to the end of the pier and watched them disappear down the street. She had let go of his arm and was holding his hand.



I turned to walk back to where I left my suitcase. I was standing by it when the next ferry docked with its load of passengers from the ship. The last person off the ferry carried a suitcase. I walked over to her to give her a hand.



"Need a hand, Lisa?"



She looked at me. "Oh, shit. Oh my God, Ray. What are you doing here?"



"Going on a cruise. What are you doing?"



"Getting off a cruise."



"Why are you leaving early?"



"Uh... I just don't care for it."



"Come on. Lisa. I just saw Sharon and some guy. Who is he and what's going on?"



"I think you should ask her about that."



"Bullshit. Tell me what's going on. Where's your boyfriend and does Josh know about him?"



Her eyes got wide. "Oh, no, Ray. I don't have... it's not like... she just... oh, shit."



I led her to a bench on the pier and motioned for her to sit. She did. Then I did. "Talk to me, Lisa."



She took a deep breath. "Where do I start?" Pause "She hates you, Ray. She blames you for Catherine having cancer."



"How could I be blamed for that?"



"I have no idea, but that's what she believes and I haven't been able to convince her otherwise."



I shook my head. "Okay tell me about Mr. Panama hat."



"His name is Vinnie... Vincent... Madera. He's a slick talking slime ball, Ray. He could talk Mother Teresa out of her panties. He has cruised on this ship a lot and the whole crew knows him and dislikes him. He says he owns a chain of upscale seafood restaurants and apparently cruises to pick up women. His preference is married ones. Our cabin attendant says he has caused lots of trouble for couples."



She paused. 



"Go on." I urged.



"We met him our first night out. Sharon and I were having drinks at one of the bars and he asked me to dance. I told him no. Then he asked Sharon. She also told him no. He left but came back later and asked her again. This time she agreed and they danced several times. I told her we had to get back to our cabin, but she wanted to keep dancing; so I left. She came back to our cabin around three in the morning. She woke me up and we talked. She told me that they were going to meet for breakfast."



She looked at me before continuing.



"When Sharon was dancing with him the first time, our waiter told me that we should stay away from him. 'He bad man no good for pretty lady'. I told Sharon what I had been told, but by then the smooth talking had begun to take effect. The next morning while Sharon was having breakfast with him, our attendant warned me the same as the waiter had. 



I saw her later that morning and tried to get her to stay with me, but no dice. It turned out that they spent the full day together. Learning how to line dance in the morning, then lunch, then swimming and trivia in the afternoon. She was in the cabin getting ready to meet him for dinner and told me that if he asked, she was going to sleep with him that night. I asked her about you and her marriage. She told me that as far as she was concerned, your marriage was over. She said the two of you hadn't had sex since... well... since Catherine died so she was really horny. But she would never have sex with you again."



"She's right. We haven't had sex since then... but that's been her idea not mine. I've tried everything I know, but nothing's worked. Maybe all I needed was a Panama hat and some sandals."



"The bottom line is she wants nothing more to do with you. This cruise was meant for her to figure out how to tell you and determine when to move out of your house and where she was going."



"My God, Lisa, I don't deserve this. I haven't done anything wrong."



"You know that and I know that, but she is unshakable in her belief about you giving Catherine cancer. Somewhere along the line, that seed was planted and it grew. Now she's reached a point where everything wrong in her life is your fault." There was a pause. "Like I said, Ray, she hates you."



I sat there stunned. 



She continued. "I talked to her before she went out with him last night. I warned her not to sleep with him, but she wouldn't listen. I told her that if she went with him that I was getting off the ship, going home, and that I would tell you. She laughed and said she didn't care if I told you or not. She was out with him all night and came back early this morning to change clothes. I asked her if she had gone through with it and she smiled and said they had fucked, her word not mine, all night and she loved it."



I just sat there. I had tried, really tried to be understanding. I almost had to force her to go to grief counseling and supported her through it all doing everything her counselor suggested. It seemed the harder I tried, the further away from me she moved. And in all that time, I was dealing with my own grieving process.



"She isn't herself Ray."



"It's been pretty rough on me, too, you know."



"Of course it has. And you don't deserve her cheating along with everything else. That's the main reason I'm going home. I wasn't going to stay and watch her continue to cheat. She's my sister and I love her, but I can't handle her cheating."



"Josh is a lucky man."



"And Sharon is a lucky woman."



"WAS. Sharon WAS a lucky woman. Her luck ran has run out... at least as far as I am concerned."



"I guess I knew that when I saw you. What are you going to do?"



"Not quite sure."



"Are you really going on the ship?"



"Yep; but I have no idea why now that I know what she has done."



She reached in her purse, took out the keycard to their room and handed it to me. "You might find a use for this. I don't know his cabin number."



I took the card. We stood and hugged each other.



"Good-bye, Lisa."



"Good-bye, Ray." She picked up her suitcase and walked up the pier. I got on the next ferry out to the ship and checked in. The first thing I did was go to my room. The second thing I did was go to Sharon's room just to look around. One bed in the room had been slept in; I assumed that was Lisa's. I looked through the small closets and saw clothes I recognized as Sharon's. 



I returned to my cabin. She wouldn't have sex with me because she didn't want any more children? So why was she having sex with a total stranger? I wondered if he used protection. 



I tried to watch as the passengers came back aboard, but never saw the two of them. I walked all over the ship that evening and still never saw them. The next day we were at sea and I spent the morning looking for them but had no luck. By noon, I decided I needed a plan. I was walking down the corridor toward my cabin and recognized my cabin attendant coming toward me.



"Could I talk to you in here?" I asked indicating my cabin.



"Yes, of course."



We went in. "Can you get the cabin number of another passenger for me?" I asked him.



"Oh, no, it is against rules." I pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "I could get in trouble." I pulled out another twenty. "Much trouble." Three more twenties. "What is name?" I told him. "I will try to do."



I went to the buffet for lunch and when I came back to my cabin there was a slip of paper on my bed with a number on it. There was also a note. "He bad man."



The corridors on cruise ships are long and narrow. It is impossible to find a place where you can observe a specific cabin unless you stand in one of the areas where the elevators or stairs are and just watch. If you do that, you stick out like a sore thumb and you are more likely than not to be spotted by the person/people you are trying to spy on.



I had another idea. On the desk in my cabin was a card with the name of my cabin attendant. His name was Mahyadi. I found him again and asked him if he could find out if a cabin close to Madera's was unoccupied, and before he could tell me no, I reached out with five more twenty dollar bills.



He knocked on my door 30 minutes later and asked if he could come in.



"There six only empty cabins this cruise. None near him cabin. Why you are curious on him?"



So I told him my whole story and ended with, "I would like to be able to get pictures of them in bed."



"It is not so very funny, your, ah, situation, but bad people often on our cruises. Sometimes people trade with others... sometimes not. Mostly, it happens like you. Husband find wife with not so nice man and trouble happen... mostly to husband. Wife and lover cheat and happens nothing with them. Not fair to husband. In my country wife or husband who cheat have bad things happen." He was from Indonesia and his English was not the best. "This man we know. This man not good man. My friends help when we can the husband to get... how you say it... membalas in my language... membalas, membalas... ah revenge. My friends like help husband get revenge. But we not throw bad man overboard for you."



I laughed when he said that. "I wouldn't ask you to throw him overboard however tempting that may be. It is just as much her fault as his. But some kind of, what did you call it? Membala? On both of them would be nice."



He smiled. "Tomorrow we in Cozumel. We get plan for helping you." 



I went to the dining room for dinner and was seated at a table with two married couples; Michael and Kyleigh Thompson from Australia, and Judy and Lester Land from Montana. After about thirty minutes with them, I was laughing so hard I could hardly eat. After dinner the five of us adjourned to the bar and dance floor on the topmost deck of the ship and had a few drinks. Both ladies insisted that I dance with them. At one point while I was dancing with Kyleigh, we were laughing very hard so we stopped trying to dance and just stood there. I was looking at her and my eyes caught movement over her shoulder. I looked and saw Sharon looking in our direction. I wasn't sure if she recognized me or not. Apparently she didn't because I saw her and Panama hat a couple more times while I was there. 



The next morning we docked in Cozumel. Mahyadi came by and spoke to me. "Mister bad man Madera will find problem in his cabin today. Toilet won't flush and water not work. Maybe also have bad smell. Cabins sometimes trouble have. But good happens too. He will get new cabin. Better cabin. Cabin 834. Cabin next to him is 836. Also empty cabin. Bad things happen to your cabin also so you move to 836. You be neighbor with him. You can go on veranda and in his room look. Take pictures." He smiled broadly then handed me a 'T' shaped hex key. "Use to open veranda door." On the veranda, there were partitions between cabins so each cabin can have privacy when using their veranda. Each partition has a door so if you have a friend or relative next door, you can ask the cabin attendant to open it so you and your neighbor can socialize on the veranda. He smiled at me. "Plan is ok?" 



"Plan is ok with me but what if he decides to move into my wife's cabin instead?" 



"She have bad cabin. No see ocean. See only life boat. If he smart, move 834. If not smart, bad things happen her cabin too. Then for sure they move 834."



I laughed again. "How much do I owe your friends?"



"No money. Madera cruise before. Friends no like him. They do for fun." Then he laughed. "You have camera take pictures?"



"Uh, no, I don't."



"I get for you." And he left but was back almost immediately with two others to move me into my new cabin. He introduced them. One of them was Banyu, the attendant for the two new cabins. They chatted and laughed in their language and patted me on the back. When we got to my new cabin, I tried the hex key and opened the partition door just to make sure I knew how to do it.



I thought about going into Cozumel with the other passengers, but changed my mind. I stayed on board and enjoyed an almost empty ship. 



At five that afternoon, I was sitting on my new veranda, watching tourists parasail when I heard voices next door. One of them was Sharon. "This is nice. It's better than yours or mine."



"Yeah, it is; but I'm getting tired of shit happening to my cabins. It seems like every time I cruise, something happens. Fortunately this time they had another cabin for me."



Then they disappeared back inside. The rest of the cruise was going to be interesting.



Shortly after they went back inside, I heard the unmistakable sounds of people having sex. The grunts, groans, fuck me's, suck me's, and do me's. That was my wife next door getting fucked and hearing how she was enjoying herself was not easy to listen to. I could hear every grunt she uttered as he pounded her. I didn't want to hear any more so I went topside for a drink.



I returned to my cabin later and there was a camera on my bed. 



It was after nine in the evening when I heard them go in their cabin. Lots of laughing. I turned out the cabin lights and opened my veranda door. In just a couple of minutes, I heard them on their veranda talking. I moved and stood by the open door. They were speaking in muted tones so I quietly stepped onto my veranda and stood by the partition where I could hear them better. Sharon was speaking.



"But I haven't figured out how to do it."



"Just tell him."



"That's easy for you to say."



"It's easy for you, too."



"It should be, but it isn't."



"Look. He gave your daughter cancer and she died. End of discussion. Go back, pack all of your stuff, tell him to kiss your ass and leave."

<hr pg="2" />"I know... and I will... as soon as the cruise ends, but there really isn't anything there I want. Everything in that house brings back memories of Catherine. I don't want anything that reminds me of her." There was a long silence before she spoke again. "Until then, you need to take me inside and fuck me."



"Well, okay. If you insist." They both laughed as they went in their cabin.



I went back inside my own cabin, picked up the camera and looked at it. I was going to have no problem operating it.



When you are floating around on the Caribbean Sea at night, the only thing you can see when you look out is darkness and stars. Lots of both. You feel like there is no one anywhere close to you so the last thing you would expect is to have someone standing on your veranda recording you having sex. But that's what happened that night on the veranda outside cabin 834.



I took the camera, went outside, opened the partition door and stood waiting. Their door was slightly ajar so I could hear them. I was more than a little nervous as I stood there. The drapes were partially closed which served to block any view they may have had of me. I heard, rather than saw, them as they started to undress.



"God, Sharon, I love watching you undress." I peeked around the drapes and saw her unbuttoning her blouse. Mr. Panama hat, walked around the room turning off the lights.



"Why are you doing that?" Sharon asked him as she slithered out of her slacks. "There's nothing out there but water for miles."



"Force of habit, I guess."



"Leave the rest of them on."



"Okay."



He lunged at her as her bra fell to the floor. They both landed on the bed and began a scramble to see who could get undressed the quickest. Since she only had her panties left, she won. She lay on her back, spread her legs, and started playing with herself.



I started taking pictures. I thought the clicking of the camera might alert them, but the sound of the water against the ship deadened it.



Watching this man fuck my wife was probably the third most difficult thing I have ever done. Watching my daughter suffer through cancer treatment was second, then watching her die and burying her was first.



The pictures weren't going to be very good, I thought, because I couldn't hold the camera still. I was mad, upset, and disappointed all at the same time. I couldn't take it any more so I stopped, stood and went back to my cabin to put the camera down. Then I returned to the veranda and locked the partition. 



I headed to the nearest bar for some drinks.



About midnight, I was staggering toward my room when I heard a familiar voice. It was Michael from the night before. I have no idea what he said or who he said it to and I certainly don't remember getting to my room, but somehow I was there; in bed with the room spinning around me, my head hurting, and my stomach in my throat. I lay there for a long time before realizing that my arms were wrapped around the camera. When I did, I tossed it across the cabin and it landed on the floor.



When I was finally able to get up and shower, I headed upstairs for coffee. We had docked in Costa Maya. It was our last stop on the cruise. When we left that evening our next stop was Mobile two days hence. When I got back to my cabin, Banyu was there cleaning it.



"How you are feeling?" he asked.



"Hung over." I answered.



"I clean your wife cabin. She and bad man will be go ashore maybe two hours. They no want go on tour with other passengers. They want private tour. I tell them I arrange so I go ashore and find guide for them. My friend tell me which guide do good job so I tell him what I want. He say ok. I come back tell your wife and give her name and taxi number. They sure to have fun." He laughed.



Sure, I thought. They 'sure to have fun'. She's known this guy for less than a week and he has gotten more pussy from her than I have in over a year. "Why did you help them?" I asked him. "I thought you were on my side."



"I be on your side. That's why I help so good." And he left.



I spent the rest of the day soaking up sun around the pool. I was joined mid-afternoon by both the Australian and Montana couples. I watched as they downed several beers. I had no stomach for alcohol, but I certainly enjoyed the afternoon with them. 



We were scheduled to leave Costa Maya at 5. All passengers were required to be back onboard by 4:30. At 4:45, I heard an announcement over the loudspeaker asking that Mrs. Sharon Trainor and Mr. Vincent Madera call the front desk. I heard the same announcement three more times before we sailed.



I was in my cabin getting ready to shower and dress for dinner. I was dining with my four friends. There was a knock on my door. It was Banyu.



"Excuse me, sir. It seems that your wife and the bad man did not return to the ship. That is very sad. May I inform you that when passenger miss sailing with ship, they must get to next port or home best way they can. Your wife must do that. I think maybe she need help getting airplane to go home or you might want check credit card to make sure no bad person use it. Have good evening."



What the fuck did I just hear? Sharon and Madera missed the boat, so they are stuck in Costa Maya, Mexico. What was that he said about helping her get home? I had no intention of helping her... oh, I get it. Maybe I should cancel my credit cards in case she tried to use one to get home. That's what he was trying to tell me.



I took out my wallet and started making calls. It cost a lot of money to call ship-to-shore, but I did it. I cancelled every credit card we had except my business card. She didn't have access to that one.



Banyu saw me in the hall later and asked me if I would like to help him pack up the belongings in 834. "Hell, no." I said.



He smiled. "You come watch." He took my arm and led me next door. In the cabin, I saw Sharon's things scattered around. She always had a habit of taking off her panties and bra and leaving them on the floor of the bathroom. She did here, as well. Idly, I started picking up items and looking at them, both his and hers. In a drawer, I saw two small black notebooks. I picked one up and thumbed through it. Each page had a name with dates, figures, and notes. On one page the note said: 'Husband fighting.. sending pictures.' On another was: Sent pics to paper. Double $'



What the fuck?



"Oh. Oh." I heard and looked at Banyu. He held up a big brown envelope. "Look. Bad man in big trouble." He was standing by the small safe each cabin had. He had opened it.



The envelope held photos of naked women. On the back of each photo was a name, address, and several dollar amounts. The dollar amounts started with one amount, which was lined through and with a lower amount written below it. Most photos started with $25,000 then $20,000 then $15,000 or some other amount. 



This bastard was blackmailing women.



"Pictures of naked people not allowed on ship."



"Let me take them with me. I will give to the police in Mobile." I said. Banyu nodded, handed the envelope to me, and turned back to the safe.



"Both in trouble." I heard him say. I looked at him again and he held up their passports. "They have trouble going home."



The cruise line made several announcements at every port-of-call that passengers leaving the ship should take their passports with them. Because if, for some reason they had trouble or missed the ship they would need them. Being caught in a foreign country without it could cause delays in their returning home. Oh, well. Fuck'em.



"What do you do with their stuff?"



"Send to homes."



"Might as well throw hers overboard because I won't accept it at my house." He laughed. "By the way," I added how much do I owe for the camera and the tour guide who made them miss the ship?"



He laughed again. "The camera is free. My friend found it long time ago. Passenger leave behind. The guide cost two hundred U.S. dollars."



I gave him three hundred and we were both happy.



That evening I had dinner with my Australian and Montana friends again. It was two in the morning when they dropped me off at my cabin. In the deep recesses of my mind, I recalled a pact the five of us made to meet in Sydney for a New Year's Eve party.



It was Sunday when we docked in Mobile and I took a cab to the police department. I told them my story and gave them the pictures and notebooks. The name Vincent Madera caused some interest and I was introduced to two detectives who seemed happy as they skimmed through the notebooks and pictures.



"This guy is scum." Said one of them. "We've heard about his scheme for some time, but have never been able to catch him. The women and their husbands have always been too scared or embarrassed to cooperate with us."



They thanked me and even gave me a ride to the airport.



At home, there was one message from Sharon. I erased it without listening to it. 



Life went on for several days. I talked to the attorney I used for my business and asked him if he did divorces. "I would rather defend a mass murderer than get involved in a divorce, but I can put you in touch with someone." He did; and divorce proceedings were started. The house belonged to my company so I immediately put it up for sale. I would eventually have to split our money with her, but only that money we had at the time the divorce was filed; so I bought two new trucks, which took virtually all of the money we had. The divorce paperwork was initiated after the trucks were purchased. 



I heard nothing from Sharon. I assumed the very least she would have done was to contact her sister, who would have told her that I knew about Mr. Panama hat.



I was home on Friday evening putting all of her stuff... and I do mean ALL... in trash bags, when the phone rang.



"Hello."



"Hello, Ray. This is Lisa."



"Hello, Lisa."



"Sharon is here."



"I don't care."



"She wants to talk to you."



"She had over a year to talk but chose not to; now it's too late."



"She wants to come home."



"She doesn't live here anymore and the courts will confirm that soon."



"What do you mean?"



"I heard her tell her boyfriend that there was nothing here she wanted so I filed for a divorce, am putting all of her stuff in the dumpster, and I put the house up for sale."



"Oh my God. You didn't?"



"Like hell I didn't. She told him that she didn't want anything that reminded her of Catherine so since that meant everything in the house, I'm doing her a favor."



"But... but what about her jewelry? Her clothes? Pictures?"



"Lisa, I took her at her word. She told him there wasn't ANYTHING here she wanted; so I'm getting rid of it."



"This will kill her."



"Is that such a bad thing?"



"You don't mean that, Ray."



"Don't I?"



"But she has nothing. No money. No job. Nothing."



"She has the memory of destroying a marriage and she can get money from her boyfriend. Tell her she will be getting the papers in the mail." I hung up.



The phone rang again in less than five minutes.



"Hello."



"You can't do this, you bastard." I recognized Sharon's voice.



"I can I did and I will." I hung up and never answered the next fifteen or twenty times it rang. I finished with all of her stuff and carried it to the curb. Trash pickup was on Tuesday morning, but generally on Monday afternoon and evening people drove around rummaging through the trash for anything they could use or sell. Most of it would be gone before the trash men got to it.



The next day was Saturday and I was home. I heard her car as it squealed to a halt on the street. I opened the front door and watched as she looked at the pile of bags. "Is this my stuff?"



"It belongs to whoever wants it."



She started ripping open the bags. "You miserable son of a bitch." She said as she recognized some of it and stormed up to me. "You have no right to throw my stuff away."



"And you had no right to fuck someone and throw our marriage away."



"I didn't do anything. We just had a few drinks and danced."



"That's not what the pictures show."



"What pictures?"



"The pictures I took of you and Vincent Madera fucking in Cabin 834."



"Pictures you took?"



"Yep." 



"How could you have taken any pictures?"



"With a camera, dumbass. I was watching you from the veranda."



"How could you get on the veranda?"



"Because my cabin was 836."



"I don't believe you."



"That's okay. The court will." I said as I started to close the door.



"Wait a minute." She yelled. I stopped. "I'm coming inside to see if there is anything else of mine."



"Not without a court order, you're not." I said.



"It's still my house."



"It was never your house. It was your home for awhile, but it was never your house; and you're not welcome in it so take whatever you want of your shit and go away."



"But Ray!" I closed the door. When I looked out the window, she was putting the bags in her car.



I had been there just a few minutes and the front doorbell rang. 



"What do you want?" I asked as I opened the door.



"I need some money."



"The next time you fuck Madera, charge him. You might be worth something as a whore."



"I'm not a whore."



"Okay. You're a slut. When he pays you, then you'll be a whore."



"Half of the money is mine and I want it."



"And you'll get it... when the judge tells me how much. Until then, fuck you." I slammed the door in her face.



She was sitting in her car fifteen minutes later when I looked out the window. The next time I looked she was gone as was all of the bags.



The next Wednesday, I had finished moving onto my new apartment and returned to the house to double check that I had left it clean. In the mail was a letter from an attorney I assumed was Sharon's. I threw it in the trash. 



Three weeks later, my real estate agent called to tell me there was an offer on the house. She told me what it was and I accepted it. She also told me that there were four letters from an attorney. I told her to throw them in the trash. 



Then my attorney called. Sharon had been asking for a meeting and I wouldn't answer her attorney's letters. "She's right. As a matter of fact, I never even read them."



"Okay, Ray. We have to answer them. When will you meet with her?"



"When hell freezes over."



"Be realistic."



"I am. I have no intention of meeting with her."



"She needs money."



"And I needed a wife."



"You will have to give it to her."



"Okay, I will... when the court orders me to." 



"How much is there?"



"About $84."



"What?"



"About $84."



"Where did the rest go?"



"That's all there was as of the day we filed the petition for divorce."



"Her attorney says there is $123,000.00.



"That was before I bought two new trucks. Now there's $84."



"The judge isn't going to like that."



"The judge doesn't have a business to run. I have employees to keep working and I have to feed myself."



"What about feeding your wife?"



"She stopped being my wife when she slept with another man."



"You're making it very difficult on yourself, you know."



"As long as it is difficult for her as well."



"Okay. I'll let them know."



"When do you think we'll go to court?"



"Probably just before Christmas and you're going to be on the Judge's shit list."



"What if I don't show up in court?"



"Then he or she will be really pissed and I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."



"The bottom line is I will only do what the court orders me to... and then only after putting it off as long as I can. I'm not making it easy for her."



"Okay, Ray, but I think you are making a mistake. If you start screwing with the courts, you're going to get fucked. Period."



Just before Christmas? Yeah, that'll work.



I went to my apartment and rummaged around until I found what I wanted and I made the call.



"Hello." I heard.



"Is this the number of Judy and Lester Land?"



"Yes, it is."



"My name is Ray Trainor. We met on a cruise recently."



"Oh my God, Ray? How are you?"



"Not too bad, Judy. How are you?"



"Pretty good other than it's starting to get cold up here."



"I'll bet it is. Listen, I need you to refresh my memory. Did we make a date for New Year's Eve?"



She laughed. "We sure did... but we were all drunk so you won't be held to it."



"The thing is I want to do it."



"Really?"



"Yep." 



She laughed and I heard her yell. "Les? How would you like to go where it's warm?" 



I heard him in the background. "When do we leave?"



Judy came back on the line. "Les is ready. Let me call Kyleigh and Michael and see if they're still up for it. I'll get back to you. This could be a fun trip."



Two days later she called to tell me the trip was on. I started looking for flights to Sydney. I never booked one because I wanted to wait and see when I was supposed to be in court, but I did apply for a visa.



The next few weeks were fun. I received several letters from her attorney, which I ignored and three visits with my attorney whose advice I also ignored. I felt that he was just about to tell me he could no longer represent me... but he didn't. Not yet, at least.



On my last visit with him in mid-November, he told me he heard a rumor that we were due in court on December 19, but had not received the official notification yet. I went right back to my office and made flight arrangements for December 18. I also made arrangements for my accountant to cut payroll and other checks necessary to keep the business up and running and I gave my assistant an early Christmas bonus check to cover for me while I was gone.



I figured I would pay dearly for my actions and would regret them, but at the time, I couldn't have cared fucking less. Catherine was as much my daughter as she was Sharon's and I missed her just as much as Sharon did... but I didn't blame her death on Sharon and I didn't ignore my spouse and fuck someone else because of it.



I'll pay the cost, but I'll make her life miserable in the meantime.



One evening, I found myself at a neighborhood bar talking to a total stranger. After two drinks, I was bragging about my business and he was bragging about his; after three drinks, I was expressing grief at Catherine's passing and he was vilifying his ex-mother-in-law. I don't know how many drinks I had when he was telling me how he moved his small company offshore to keep it out of the hands of his ex-wife.



"Wait a minute. You did what?"



"I moved my company to The Cayman Islands so my wife wouldn't get any of it in our divorce."



"Is that legal?"



"Nah, not really."



"Then it didn't work?"



"Oh, yeah it worked... it just wasn't legal."



"Okay explain it to me."



He did, and I started getting sober really fast. We ended the evening with him giving me the name and phone number of his attorney in George Town, Cayman Islands. The next morning I called him and the following day I was back in George Town. There were two cruise ships anchored as we flew over and I remembered the other time I was here.



The attorney was not among the more stellar citizens of the world, but he had found a need among a certain type of person and filled that niche.



He explained that most courts in the United States frowned upon someone trying to move their business offshore to avoid losing all or part of it in a divorce or bankruptcy and generally would not recognize the move unless it was made prior to any consideration of the divorce or bankruptcy. The longer away from the divorce or bankruptcy filing the offshore transfer was made, the more acceptable it seemed to the courts. For example, since I had already filed for divorce, moving my company offshore now would be considered an effort to evade possible financial responsibility for my future ex-spouse.



He told me that, for a price, he could date the necessary documents to reflect my intent to move long before my divorce petition was filed. He could then claim that there had been an unfortunate delay in acting on my request and my company would have a new home in about a week. 

<hr pg="3" />I wrote him a bank counter check he provided and dated it three months before Catherine's death. I told him I thought I was on thin ice because if the court decided to check with my bank, they would find the check would only recently have been cashed. "No big deal," he said, "I will be able to prove to them that it was deposited into my account a week after I received it. The fact that your bank would not have been able to record the transaction would be part of the same unfortunate delay in registering your company." The paperwork he then filed reflected that date. 



Legal? No way in hell. Was he a slimeball? Yep. Was I an asshole for doing it? You betcha, Kemosabe! And I would do it again. 



I had heard that since I owned my company before we were married it couldn't be touched by her, but my attorney indicated that was not necessarily the truth. It all hinged on the judge. I figured the worst that could happen to me was the court wouldn't accept the paperwork and I would be forced to pay Sharon. 



Two weeks later, my 'Two Men and a Truck' had a new headquarters address; George Town, Cayman Islands. The business wasn't worth many millions of dollars; but it was mine. It wasn't hers. She had nothing invested in it. She never worked for it and never invested any money in it. Hell, she didn't even know how many trucks I had or how many people worked for me. She was, however, lucky enough to be fed, clothed, and housed by it for a few years. 



I had loved her... and only her... until I talked to Lisa on the pier at George Town. Why was that the turning point? I guess it was because Lisa told me that Sharon hated me and intentionally had sex with Madera. That broke my heart and pissed me off at the same time.



So from that day, the gloves were off and the game was on.



Several days after I received my new company documents, my attorney called and officially informed me that our court date was Dec 19.



"I'm sorry, but I'm going to be out of town. We'll have to reschedule."



"You what?"



"I'm going to be out of town. Hey, it's legit. I scheduled the trip before we had an official court date."



"Where will you be?"



"Australia."



"You're fucking kidding me."



"No, I'm not. By the way, I've just received notification that my company is now officially registered in the Cayman Islands."



"Ray, I don't know what to say. The court will not like this. They will, rightfully, I might add, assume you did it to try to avoid paying your wife."



"Sam," That was his name. Sam Winslow. "I have documentation attesting to the fact that I made the request to move there over a year ago and a letter from my attorney there acknowledging that and apologizing for the delay. I'll drop it all off to you."



"You're flirting with disaster."



"And in a few days, I hope to be flirting with some Australian beauty. I'll call you when I get back."



"When will that be?"



"January 5th."



Three days later, I was on a plane to Sydney. Kyleigh and Michael met me at the airport and took me to my hotel where we had breakfast and chatted. They had invited me to stay with them and spend Christmas, but I declined choosing not to interfere with their familial festivities.



I opted, instead to take a train to Adelaide, where I rented a car and drove to the ferry which took me to Kangaroo Island. I had rented a small cottage with a fantastic view of the Southern Ocean. I made my way to the water's edge only one time just so I could say I had been there. The early part of my Christmas day was very quiet and relaxed. It started to change around three in the afternoon when the couple from whom I had rented the cottage stopped by with a basket of Lamb, salad, potatoes, carrots, and several bottles of Barossa Valley wine. 



They finally left around midnight. It was a very nice day!



I was back in Sydney on December 28. There were three messages for me when I tried to check into my hotel. One was from my assistant; another was from my attorney. My assistant just wanted to let me know that everything was going well and that everyone thanked me for their Christmas Bonus. Sam told me that we were now scheduled for court on January 9th, and If I wasn't there, I could find an new attorney. He added that Sharon and her attorney were absolutely livid at finding out about the business and the $84. They had every intention of fighting. 



I wouldn't have it any other way, I thought to myself.



The third message was from Kyleigh and Michael Thompson informing me that this time they would not take no for an answer and had informed the hotel management that I was not to be allowed to check in; and they expected me at their house.



I, again, rented a car and made my way over the Sydney Harbor Bridge to Cremorne Point, where they threw open their door and dragged me inside their very nice house. We managed to finish off two bottles of wine before dinner. 



After dinner we had more wine and laughter. I was already a fan of Australian wine, but this couple was, hands down, the nicest, funniest, most welcoming, and alcohol tolerant people I had ever met.



Early the next morning, the three of us drove to the airport to meet Judy and Lester Land. They never had a chance to recover from their jetlag because we started drinking during breakfast and finished late that night.



The next day the Thompsons hosted a party for us. I thought I had fun before, but that party was 'off the charts'. There was plenty of any type of alcohol you wanted; more than enough food to feed a division of hungry soldiers, and confirmation of my opinion that Australian women were the most beautiful in the world. One of them was a neighbor of the Thompsons. Her name was Olivia Kelly and she made everyone near her smile. Beautiful, witty, and intelligent; she was a triple threat.



She and I hit it off immediately and spent almost the whole party together. 



The next day was New Year's Eve and the Thompsons, Lands, and I had planned to spend the evening watching the fireworks in Sydney harbor. The four of them had seen Olivia and I together and encouraged me to invite her to go with us. 



So I did and things could not have gone better. As a group we laughed, finished off several bottles of wine, enjoyed one of the best fireworks displays in the world, hugged and kissed everybody in sight, and finally said goodnight at four in the morning.



At noon on New Year's Day, the Thompsons hosted another party. This one was huge and had at least 60 people in attendance. Olivia was there and she introduced me to many of her friends. 



It was about seven in the evening and the party just kept getting better. It dawned on me that I hadn't seen Olivia in some time, so I went looking for her. Someone told me that she had left about 30 minutes earlier with some piker. Piker? What the hell was a piker? Boyfriend?



"Hey Kyleigh."



"There you are, Ray. Having fun?"



"Oh, hell, yeah. Uh, Kyleigh, what is a piker?"



"Where did you hear that?"



"I was looking for Olivia and someone said she left with a piker."



She laughed. "Some people call anyone who leaves a party early a piker."



"Oh. I thought it might mean boyfriend; or something like that."



"Well, it could be. Two people meet at a party, get friendly and decide to go somewhere to... you know... have some privacy."



"Okay thank you."



"Come with me. There are some people I want you to meet."



And so it went. Meet, talk, drink, eat. Meet some more, talk some more, drink some more, eat some more. At midnight, I was finished so headed to my room for some much needed rest. I had never partied so much in such a short time in my life. I needed a vacation!.



The next morning, I was sipping on a cup of very strong coffee when Kyleigh and Michael came downstairs. Bouncy as rubber balls and as jovial as Santa Claus, they grabbed coffees and sat. Simply put, these folks were born to party. 



"So, Ray, what do you think? Did you have fun?" Asked Kyleigh.



"Oh my God! Of course I had fun. Do you always party like that?



"Pretty much." There was a pause. "Olivia came back around one, and was asking about you." Another pause. "We told her that you were exhausted and were probably getting ready for bed. She grinned, grabbed two glasses of wine and went to your room, but you were asleep and she chose not to wake you."



"Well, that sucks," I said "but I thought when she left that she had made other plans."



"No worries mate. He was her brother-in-law. Her sister was drunk and he wanted help getting her home. She told us when she came back." That surprised me; given their high alcohol tolerances, I didn't think any Australian got drunk.



Just then she came bouncing in the kitchen door, poured herself some coffee, stood behind Kyleigh and spoke. "Do all yanks sleep in the buff or are you an exception?" I spent the next few seconds wiping up the coffee I sprayed over the table. And before I could say anything, she was behind me, leaning down with her tits crushed against the back of my head and hugging me. "That shade of blush red looks good on ya, mate. And if the size of your tackle means anything, you were having a nice dream."



The three of them were still roaring with laughter at my embarrassment when Judy and Les came in.



"What did we miss?" Asked Les.



"Just your fellow yank spraying coffee over the place." Laughed Olivia as she patted me on both of my shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top on my head.



"Not to mention being caught with a fattie." Added Michael.



This was just going from bad to worse, I thought. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" I asked, changing the subject. It worked. We spent the next hour making plans for the day. It was assumed that Olivia would be spending it with us. She did.



Two nights before I was to return home, Olivia and I had sex. Great sex. Wonderful sex. Her body was perfect and she used it perfectly.



Helping a beautiful woman undress is one of the most sensual things any man can do. Opening each button, lowering each zipper, or opening each clasp causes one to breath deeper and the heart to beat faster.



But to be allowed to sit and watch as she undresses herself is, in my opinion, sensuality overload.



I watched as she slid her blouse off each shoulder exposing soft light skin with the contrast of the black bra strap which led my eyes down to the bulging cups which contained what promised to be perfect breasts. 



Then more magic as she reached behind her as only women can do and unclasped her bra and brought her right hand to her front and held her bra in place until her left hand joined her right and she cupped both breasts. Then she slowly lowered her hands taking the bra with her. Just before her nipples were exposed, I looked in her eyes. They sparkled with pride as if knowing how beautiful her breasts were, and this man; this new friend... no... it was obvious he was more than a friend... this soon to be lover, was going to see for himself how beautiful they were.



Then they were bare. I took an even deeper breath and held it. She smiled broadly now knowing the effect she was having on me and anticipating my reaction to the even greater effects she had in store for me.



And so it went. Her skirt was lowered and beautiful, million dollar legs were exposed along with the black panties. I looked closely and saw wisps of hair peeking out from the crotch of them. And her hands went to her waist and inside the panties sliding them down wiggling her hips as she did.



I couldn't breathe any more. 



She walked toward me. Naked. Beautiful. Reeking of sex. Every move telling me she was going to fuck my brains out and then hold my exhausted, bruised body in her arms until I recovered; then she was going to do it again.



And she did. For hours we fucked. And when I was too tired to fuck her, she fucked me. Her pussy massaged and stroked my dick giving it life long after I thought it would never be hard again.



She took me to the airport the morning I left Australia. 



The flight home was long. On one hand I didn't want to leave, but on the other, I was anxious to get to court and see what was going to happen.



I called Sam Winslow as soon as I landed. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it back." He said.



"It was difficult. I didn't want to leave."



"Not much has happened. Of course your wife is beyond pissed and wants your balls on a platter."



"From what I saw on the ship, she wants anyone's balls but mine."



"At any rate. She would like to meet with you and see if you can come to some sort of settlement before going to court, and as your attorney, it is my responsibility to encourage you to do exactly that. Judges like to see that you have made some effort to save the marriage before divorcing."



"Save it my ass. She blamed me for killing our daughter, treated me like shit, then fucked another man. I'll take my chances in court."



"Okay, but I don't think it will go very well for you. Oh, by the way. Vincent Madera has been indicted for blackmail. It looks like he will be spending some time beyond bars."



"Good. I hope the motherfucker's cellmate is someone whose wife cheated with another slimeball. With any luck Madera's ass will be like the Holland tunnel with dicks constantly going in and out of it."



I spent the next couple of days back at work where I found that my business was continuing to thrive. I issued a couple of generous bonus checks to dedicated employees just in case things went bad for me in court.



Sam Winslow and I were just walking to our table in the courtroom when Sharon rushed over to me and slapped me hard across the face. "You bastard. I hate you." She was immediately grabbed by her attorney and Sam and she returned to her table with her attorney.



"Can she get away with that?" I asked Sam.



"Calm down, Ray."



"Calm down, my ass."



"Let it go, Ray. Let it go."



"Hell, no. If I had slapped her, my ass would be in handcuffs. I want to file charges. Now."



"Ray, listen!"



"I want her arrested, Sam."



Just then the bailiff, or whatever he was called, came to me.



"Did I hear you say you wanted her arrested?"



"Yes you did."



Her attorney had been talking to her and they had both overheard what I had said. He came to me and spoke. "Mr. Trainor, there is no need to do anything harsh. She will apologize and we will go forward with the divorce."



"Oh, we're going forward all right... forward with charging her with assault or battery or whatever you call it." I turned to the Bailiff. "What do I have to do?"



"Mr. Trainor, please... let's discuss this." Her attorney said.



"Stay away from me, counselor. Sam, let's make this happen."



"Ray don't do anything rash. Think about it. This could work to your advantage in the divorce."



"It already has."



Just then we were told that the Judge wanted to see us in his chambers. "Can someone explain to me what just happened?" He asked.



"I can." I volunteered.



"And you are?" 



"Ray Trainor, your honor. I was here to get a divorce."



"Are you represented by counsel, Mr. Trainor?"



"Yes, sir."



"Then maybe he should speak for you."



"Your honor, I'm Samuel Winslow. I'm Mr. Trainor's counsel. Mr. Trainor and I had just entered the courtroom when Mrs. Trainor approached him uninvited and slapped him. It's as simple as that."



The judge looked at Sharon. "You are Mrs. Trainor, I presume."



"She is, your Honor." Said her Attorney. "My name is Francis Harvey."



"Well, Mr. Harvey. Is Mr. Winslow correct?"



Harvey looked at Sharon who was glaring at me. Harvey looked at the judge. "Are we off the record, your honor?"



"We are."



"In that case, he is correct... but Mrs. Trainor had a pretty good reason. You see, Mr. Trainor has neglected to provide any support for her, and she has..."



The judge interrupted him. "That's enough. Mr. Trainor, you are free to file any charges that you feel are appropriate. But for now, let's go back in the courtroom and talk about this divorce.



Five minutes later we were standing in front of him as he sat in his robe. We both presented our cases and she denied the adultery accusation so I handed him the pictures I had taken of her fucking Vincent Madera. He started to glance through them when Francis Harvey stopped him.



"Your Honor. Those were taken without the consent of either my client or the other person and should not be admissible."



"Where were these taken and by whom?"



"I took them in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico." I said. 



"When?"



"Obviously while they were fucking, Your Honor." I saw a grin start on his face but he caught himself and looked at me.



"The obvious aside, Mr. Trainor, these could have been taken years ago."



"Your Honor," interjected Mr. Harvey, "Does it matter when they were taken? They are still inadmissible."



"Mrs. Trainor. For the sake of argument, is that you in the photographs?"



"You don't have to answer that." Said Harvey to Sharon. 



"Have you ever had sex with anyone but your husband since you've been married?"



"No, sir."



"Mr. Trainor. When did you transfer your company to George Town?"



"Over a year ago."



"Why did it take so long to finalize?"



"It could be that they are still using paper instead of computers down there and it just got lost."



"And weren't you curious as to why it was taking so long?"



"Not really. I did it to help save on taxes and I only file yearly anyway."



"Surely you were curious about your check not being cashed?"



"Again, not really. I figured the longer it took them to cash it, the longer I could hang on to that money."



"Mrs. Trainor. Why do you think Mr. Trainor caused your daughter to have cancer?"



"He just did."



"And do you have medical proof of that?"



"I don't need it."



"Aha. And did you, as the petition states, refuse to have sex with him?"



"Yes."



"May I ask why?"



"I didn't want to have any more children for him to kill."



"But you thought it was okay to have sex with Mr. Madera?"



"Yes."



"I object." Said Harvey. But it was too late. I smiled. Sam smiled. And the judge smiled. It had happened so fast that she answered automatically and Harvey was just a split second too late with his objection.



That pretty much ended that. The divorce was granted and I kept my company. She got $42. which I paid in cash.



It seemed the judge took a pretty dim view of adultery by either party and dealt severely with the adulterer. 



Sam couldn't talk me out of filing charges against her for slapping me and since there were plenty of witnesses she had little recourse but to plead guilty. She received 15 days in jail and was fined $250.



Vincent Madera was dealt with a little more harshly. Five years in prison. I would pay big money to have pictures of him being forced to suck a big dick and getting fucked in the ass at the same time!



My life is much nicer. 



I spend a lot of time in Australia.

