TITLE    : Ripples in a Cuckolds Pond Ch. 06
STORYID  : ripples-in-a-cuckolds-pond-ch-06
SUMMARY  : Nicole breaks down. David searches for leverage.
AUTHOR   : JayCuck@lit
DATE     : 2016-03-16
CATEGORY : interracial-erotic-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |interracial|cuckold|hotwife|girlfriend|queen of spades|lesbian|


<i>I want to thank everyone who takes the time to read this series. I especially want to thank those of you who have emailed me and/or provided feedback. I really do appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this new direction. 

This series doesn't have as much sex as previous stories. The plot is becoming more complex and it's harder to work credible sex scenes into the storyline. 

Troll Alert (Trigger Warning - if you're so sensitive you need it): If you don't like cuckold/hotwife stories you won't like this one. Save your energy, righteous indignation, and ugly comments for another story. </i>





The night air felt good on my face as walked through the exit doors. I stopped when I didn't see Nicole. I walked towards the side of the restaurant, where the main parking lot stood full, and caught sight of her. No, no just her. I caught sight of <i>them. </i>They were standing next to a nice BMW. 

Kissing. 

The moon light accentuated their bodies, and their skin tones stood out in stark, erotic detail. DeMarco had pulled her against him, wrapped her tightly in his harms, while he pressed his mouth against hers. My wife had one of her calves raised, like a postcard picture, as she ran her hands over his back. Maybe she hadn't intended for this to happen tonight, but I could tell she loved it. 

Queen of Spades. Apparently, any black man could have her. 

Anger, frustration, and sadness all competed for emotional dominance, a swirling, complex cyclone of emotions surged through my body.

Anger won. 

I gritted my teeth, and flexed my hands several times, before I found enough control to speak. 

"Nicole!" 

My shout was deliberately louder than necessary to get her attention. Not a little louder....a lot louder. Patrons entering and leaving the restaurant paused, and turned in my direction. My wife sprang back from DeMarco. She covered her face for a second, before she smoothed her clothes, and started towards me. 

"I paid the bill. I'm leaving."

Once again my voice was plenty loud enough for passersby to hear me clearly. Maybe I was overdoing it, but I wanted to inflict a little distress of my own. Turnabout is fair play, or something like that...

"Nick, wait-."

"Goodnight!"

I started walking towards my car. The fast-paced clicking of her high heels followed me. 

"Wait. Let me explain."

I glanced over my shoulder. "Go away, Nikki."

"Nick! Stop, please."

She finally caught up with me, and grabbed my arm. "Wait. Please, just wait."

"What!" I pulled my arm away. 

"I'm sorry, David-"

"You mean your pimp."

I hated myself for saying it, but anger got the best of me. Her eyes widened at my response, and then tears formed until her eyes glistened with them. She covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head. 

"No. Please, don't say that."

"Whatever," I replied. "Have a nice night."

"It's a game, just a game-."

"I'm not playing, Nikki." 

DeMarco had held back initially, probably thinking it would be a quick conversation, but as Nicole pleaded with me he stepped towards us. I kept an eye on him. 

"I'll call David. I'll straighten it out." She reached for me again, but I stepped back. "We can go somewhere else for dinner."

"Forget it," I replied with a laugh. "Tonight is over."

Her eyes switched from pleading to angry in the space of a heartbeat. "Going to see your slut?"

"Look who's talking!" I spat back, and then gave her a once-over "What's your rate for the night? Or are you charging by the hour? Or by the guy?"

DeMarco's growl split the night. "Motherfucker!" 

"No! DeMarco! No!"

Nicole spun towards him, and put her arms on his chest, but he wasn't listening. He brushed her roughly aside, his burning eyes focused on me, and she stumbled, lost her balance, and fell to the pavement. A cry of pain escaped her as she hit the hard surface. 

Anger and rage shot out of DeMarco's eyes, as he took a lumbering step towards me. He balled his hands into fists, and let loose with a straight right cross.

I slipped underneath his haymaker, and slammed two punches into his ribcage. He'd been off balance when he threw the punch. I made him pay for it. His gasp of pain was the most beautiful sound of the night, and before he could recover, I side-stepped, and slammed my foot into the side of his knee. He crumpled to the pavement, his fall both awkward and painful. He rolled over, pushed himself back up, and limped towards me. 

"Lucky fucking shot," he hissed. 

More careful now, he used his greater reach to jab at my head. I backed away, bobbing and weaving with my hands up, and thanking my mixed martial arts instructor for not going easy on me. I took several punches against my hands, and one against my ear (that-fucking-hurt!) before I slipped inside, and let loose several punches to his midsection. 

He pushed me away, but I knew I'd hurt him. His breath came in gasps now, and he winced several times as he circled. 

"C'mon, we ain't done here."

I feinted left, ducked right, and came up a hard right hook. It connected perfectly. His head snapped back, and he stumbled back a two steps before his knee gave out, and he fell into some bushes against the restaurant wall. 

I backed away, and moved towards Nicole. 

She sat on the pavement, her knee scraped and bleeding, and her dress smudged with parking lot grease. Tears streamed down her face, and her shoulders shook from crying. 

"Nikki."

She shook her head, and held up her hand. She wouldn't look at me. Just as I started to kneel down, sirens and flashing lights lit the parking lot. DeMarco's friends finally made an appearance. They swarmed out of the restaurant, and circled around him. Angry glances were tossed in my direction, and if the cops hadn't arrived, I suspected I'd have had to deal with several of his pissed off friends. Restaurant patrons streamed out the double doors, and gathered to watch the spectacle. 

Another police car arrived. 

More lights. More spectators

Pandemonium. 

Officers appeared, and went to work. All three of us were separated. A female officer spoke to Nicole, while I got a crusty, old veteran with a roadmap face of wrinkles. I couldn't see DeMarco, but truthfully, I didn't look that hard. A few spare officers moved the crowd back inside, but held back the witnesses, and started asking them questions. 

The police officer took my statement. It was verified by about a dozen witnesses, and he mumbled something about mutual combat before he told me I was free to go. I mentioned speaking to Nicole, but he shook his head.

"Go home, sir." 

An ambulance arrived. 

I wasn't happy DeMarco was the one inside the ambulance, truly I wasn't, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gratified. He'd walk with a limp for several weeks, and I didn't have a scratch on me. A bruise or two maybe, but I wasn't bleeding, and I damn sure wasn't getting into an ambulance.

Men or boys, we really never go far from the playground. 

The female officer escorted Nicole to her car, and she left without a word. I checked my phone. Nothing. 

As I drove away, I dialed Cassidy. 

"Where are you?"

"Sorry. I can't come over."

"What? Why?"

I told her. Then I told her again. 

"Wait!" She interrupted me as I started the story for a third time. "You beat up a guy?"

"Not on purpose."

"How does that happen by accident?"

I chuckled. "I mean I didn't intend to fight him. He threw the first punch."

"Mmmmm, now I'm turned on. Come over for a quickie."

"Stop," I chided her. "I'm heading home. I don't know where my wife is, and I can't leave the kids by themselves."

"Awwww," she purred into the phone. "That's okay. I understand. Go be a father."

"Thanks."

"Call me later," she said just as I was about to hang up. 

"It'll be late," I warned. 

"That's okay. I have something I want to ask you."

"Uh oh. I'm in trouble aren't I."

"You'll just have to call to find out, now won't you?"

"Fine," I relented. "Call you when I can."

"Night."

I slipped the phone into a cup holder. A deep, cleansing sigh helped dissipate the tension I'd been holding, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel until my knuckles grew white. The combination of a relaxing sigh, and tight grip, helped relax my body. 

Tonight sucked. 

It should have been good. Hell, it should have been great. 

The Nicole I saw tonight was a different person. Her actions just didn't fit with the woman I knew. The mother of my two beautiful daughters. My hands gripped the steering wheel again. I'm not a naturally angry person, and I hated the way anger affected my body. 

<i>Easy. Take it easy, Nick. </i>

The analytical side of my brain asserted itself. Information. I was missing a piece of information, maybe more than one. There had to be an explanation for my wife's behavior, I just didn't know what it was. I needed to find out. I owed it to her, and to my marriage to understand. 

At the same time, I'd just gotten into a fight with an attorney. I knew next to nothing about the law, or the legal system, except to stay as far away from it as possible. Was it possible nothing would come of tonight's altercation? Sure. Did I think David's friend and prot&#xfffd;g&#xfffd; would just take a beating? 

Not for a fucking second. 

"Seriously, Nick? It's after ten o'clock, and it's a school night."

The joking voice on the other end of the line was my new attorney. After I fired David, I reached out to my ex-employer. The legal department anyway. I'd had enough lunches and meetings with the legal department at my old company, and I knew one of the lawyers well. He gave me a referral, and I'd hired him myself. I'd transferred all of our estate planning, and assorted legal stuff to his firm. 

Stan was his name, and he looked exactly like a Stan. Tall, maybe six-five or six-six, broad-shouldered with dark brown hair, and gray at his temples. Once athletic body, still trim, but with a slight paunch, and the bastard managed to make it look good. Seriously, everything about this guy came from a GQ magazine, or a lawyer's society brochure. Still, he was a great guy, and he had the good sense not to win at golf. 

Kidding about that last part. He kinda sucks as a golfer. 

"Sorry for calling so late," I said. "But I need your advice."

"This isn't about estate planning is it?"

"Nope."

"Okay." His voice became serious. "Start at the beginning."

I rehashed our night so far, leaving nothing out, and I repeated it after he asked me again. I could almost hear him taking notes. The part about Nicole didn't seem to faze him at all. I guess lawyers must see it all. 

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can think of."

"You did the right thing," he said. "Calling me, I mean. Although, kicking this dude's ass was the right thing as well."

"Funny to hear an attorney say that."

"Yeah well, you'd be surprised how often a good ass-kicking solves problems. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong guy, in the wrong career, to embarrass."

"You know him?"

"Of him," he said. "I've never met him personally, and we've never shared a courtroom. Still, he has a good reputation, and everyone I know speaks highly of him."

"That's good right?"

"No," he said. "That's bad."

"I don't understand."

"He. Has. A. Good. Reputation."

Stan said every word individually, as though talking to a five-year-old. After he finished, he fell silent. 

"And I just tarnished it."

"Ding. Ding. Winner-winner, chicken dinner." He chuckled. "Your new best friend now has to explain why he was fighting in the parking lot of a fast food place. Worse, a police report has been filed. Everyone in his professional circle will know he got his ass kicked. In forty-eight hours, the legal rumor mill will have this guy fucking your wife in the parking lot, before he ended up on the pavement. I wouldn't want to be him."

"Shit."

"There are a lot of attorneys in San Antonio, but believe me, it's still a small community. The last thing any attorney wants is their name in an official police report."

"What do you recommend?"

"First, take care of your wife and family. That's the most important thing. Second, trust me and my firm to take it from here. I don't do the criminal stuff anymore, but one of my partners does, and he's fucking brilliant. Former cop. He has contacts on the SAPD."

"The cop I spoke to tonight mentioned something called mutual combat. Not sure what that means."

"Third," he ignored my response. "Don't say another fucking word to anyone about tonight. You hear me? There isn't an attorney alive who wishes his client spoke more to the police, or to the press. I don't care what they tell you, refer them to me."

"Yes, sir."

"Look," he softened his tone. "You weren't arrested. Witnesses will confirm that you were the attacked party. Odds are this will go away. The cop's right, mutual combat is probably how this will shake out initially."

"But?"

"But if it doesn't, I don't want you to get shafted."

"Thanks, Stan. I appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," he said with a chuckled. "Just pay our bill."

"Check is in the mail."

"Good night. Don't worry. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Night."

My phone buzzed before I could put it down. I cursed under my breath, but answered anyway. "Yeah."

"Nick, it's Cynthia. Nicole's with me."

"Excellent," I said, and meant it. "Is she okay?"

"Skinned her knee, ruined a dress, but otherwise she's fine."

"I'm on my way."

"Actually," she said quickly. "Why don't you give it a night. Let her calm down, relax, and give her some time to think. She's pretty confused."

"She's not the only one."

"I know, but she's the one who showed up at my doorstep asking for help," she snapped. "The men in her life have been pulling her in different directions so it's no surprise tonight ended badly. It's not too much to ask for you and David to give her some space."

"Easy," I replied. "I'm not the enemy here."

Several seconds passed before I heard her voice. "No. You're not. But this isn't about you. It's about your wife."

"Fine," I replied tightly. "What do you suggest."

"I want Nicole to stay with me."

"What?"

"Just until she's had time to sort out her feelings."

"You just said to give her a night, now you're saying she should stay with you? What the hell, Cynthia?"

"You asked for my recommendation," she snapped back. "I'm not suggesting she stay away from you or the girls, just that she should spend her nights here. She'll still take care of the girls, but I want her to take some time off from her new job."

"We agree on that last part."

She sighed. "Look, I don't want to get ahead of Nicole, but David has brought out feelings in her she didn't realize were there. She's trying to work through them, but she needs time and space."

"What are you talking about? What feelings?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

I heard a voice in the background, and then the phone went quiet. A jumble of sounds met my ear, and I suspected she'd covered the phone with her hand. I didn't recognize the next voice I heard. 

"Nick?"

"Nicole?"

"Yeah." She sniffed. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I replied. "How are you?"

"Shaken up. Mortified." I heard her take a ragged breath. "I'm going to stay with Cynthia for a while."

"Are you sure?"

"I need a break." Her voice hovered just above a whisper. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Better yet," I suggested quickly. "Why don't we do lunch?"

"Okay."

"I'll call you."

"No. Let me call you."

"Fine."

"Will you tell the girls where I am? Please. Just tell them Cynthia needed some company."

I hated lying to my kids, but what else could I say? 

"Sure."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The phone line filled with an awkward, heavy silence. 

"Nikki-."

"I'm tired, Nick. I'm going to bed. I'll call you tomorrow."

"I love yo-." 

The call ended.



***

The girls didn't notice their mother's absence the next morning. Whether they assumed she slept in, or wasn't feeling well, I wasn't sure. I made breakfast, and then dropped them off at school.

"Thanks, dad. I love you."

"Love you too, Jas."

I watched my eldest daughter walk through the double doors. Before I was ready, she'd graduate. We'd already started the college admission process. 

Bitter sweet didn't begin to cover it. 

Stan was waiting in our office lobby when I entered. He greeted me with a smile, but I sensed a seriousness to his expression. I motioned for him to follow me, and we entered my office. 

"What's up?" 

"Nothing good," he said. 

I closed my office door. Stan sat on the new couch Cassidy ordered, and I joined him. He laid his briefcase on the coffee table. 

"I've got a few items for you."

"Okay."

The locks on his briefcase clicked open with a loud snap. The sound seemed ominous for some reason. He took out a box. 

"This is a dash cam," he said. "We're going to install it in your vehicle before I leave today. Any time you're in the vehicle, this is recording. Understand?"

"No." I shook my head. "I hear what you're saying, but I'm not sure why?"

He held up a hand. "I'll get to that in a second. Here's a notepad, and a two pens. Any interaction with law enforcement gets written down here."

"Stan-."

"Shut up, Nick."

I wasn't sure how often lawyers tell their clients to shut up, but I figured it had to be rare, so I nodded and kept my lips closed. 

"Details. Name of the officer. Badge number. Reason for the interaction. Description of what takes place."

He recited each one, and the flipped open the notepad. The same instructions had been written inside the cover. In big, bold letters. 

"Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine. Last thing," he said. "What's the name of the security company for your neighborhood?"

"Stan," I replied. "You're making me nervous."

"Excellent. I want you nervous." 

His expression left no room for objections, so I searched my phone for the number. I gave it to him, he read it back, and then pulled out his own phone. 

"Need to make a call," he said to my raised eyebrows. 

He recited my address, name of our neighborhood, and the contact information for the security company. Whoever he spoke to didn't need much more, because less than a minute after dialing he terminated the call. 

"Okay." He slid his phone into his suit, and leaned back on the couch. "Our criminal attorney made some calls last night, and he didn't like the answers he received."

"Great," I replied sarcastically. 

"He called me first thing this morning. I mentioned he's got great contacts, and they all heard about your altercation."

"What?"

"Every single one," he said with a nod. "The story is being spun, of course, and not in your favor. Based on what he heard, you're being profiled as someone who attacked an officer of the court, but talked fast, and convinced the responding cops it was mutual."

"Fuck me."

"That's why I'm here," he said. "To make sure you don't get fucked."

"Thank you," I replied. "What happens now?"

"You keep a low profile." He pointed his finger at me. "If you don't live up to the story, or give the police any reason to look closer at you, this'll probably just go away. Right now, it's just juicy gossip."

"And if it doesn't?"

"We play damn good defense." He slid a card towards me. "Here's the contact info for our criminal superstar. It's got his personal cell on the back. Keep it. Call him immediately if you have an interaction with the police."

"I got it-."

"Listen to me, Nick. If you wave at a cop, you call him. If a cop follows you for more than five seconds, call him. Hands free," he stressed. "But call him. One of us will check in with you each morning and give you an update."

"Damn." I shook my head. "This is surreal, Stan."
<hr pg="2" />He chuckled. "We have a saying in the legal community."



"What's that?" I asked. "A person who represent themselves has a fool for a client?"



"No." He shook his head, and his eyes twinkled with humor. "Stay out of trouble."



"That isn't helpful."



"Follow my instructions." He offered his hand. "Stay out of trouble, keep in touch, and my firm will support you. We're not amateurs. We know how the system works, and we have our own levers of influence. You're not alone, buddy."



"Thanks."



We walked down to my car, not my Mustang, and he installed it. He pointed out a few features and we tested it. He reiterated his warnings, and instructions, before we shook hands. 



"Talk to you soon."



"Thanks again."



I'm Irish. It's in my DNA to be superstitious, and my meeting with Stan only made it worse. Of course, the fact that David drove into our parking lot as Stan was leaving didn't help either.



Coincidence? No idea. 



Rather than go inside though, I waited for him at the building entrance. I checked my phone absently as he parked, and strode in my direction. Concern and anger competed for dominance in his expression. I recognized his final expression. 



Anger won.



I slipped my phone into my shirt pocket, and extended my hand. "David."



"Nick. Got a few minutes?"



We shook hands and he squeezed harder than normal. Didn't bother me, I squeezed right back. 



"Sure."



We didn't talk in the elevator. We didn't talk in the lobby. It wasn't until my office door had closed, again, that he broke his silence. 



"You overreacted last night."



"I disagree." I replied forcefully. "I was trying to leave. At least a dozen witnesses, and several police statements will confirm that for you."



"You didn't have to attack him, Nick."



<i>An odd statement. </i>



"You have bad information, David. I attacked no one."



"DeMarco is several inches taller than you. He weighs probably twenty pounds more, and you're suggesting it was mutual? That you," he looked me up and down. "Beat him fairly?"



"Why are you here?"



"My friend spent the night in the hospital. His leg is in a brace for the next several weeks, and your wife is scraped up as well. I want to know why you started all this? What could have possessed you to attack him? Unprovoked? Was it Nicole? Jealousy?"



Warning bells were clanging in my brain. I'm not an attorney. What I know about the law could fit into a thimble, but I'm no stranger to verbal gymnastics. Sales is probably the best training in the world for reading people. David wasn't interested in learning more about what happened. His mind was already made up. 



No. He was hunting. 



"I'll say it again." I cleared my throat. "I started nothing, David. I didn't attack anyone, and I didn't instigate anything. I'll tell you the same thing I told the officer. I was leaving, when DeMarco lost his temper, pushed Nicole to the ground, and then came at me." I stood, and motioned toward my door. "Now get out of my office."



"We need to talk about Nicole."



"Not now. Not today." I shook my head. "Leave."



His eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened, but didn't say anything further. Our meeting hadn't gone the way he planned, and he was pissed, but I could tell he didn't know how to salvage the situation. He retrieved something from his pocket, set on my desk, and slid it to me. 



"Nicole asked me to give this to you. I'll call you tomorrow, and we can discuss it further." He took a quick breath. "We need to do a better job of communicating, Nick."



"You have no idea," I replied. 



He didn't exactly slam my office door, but he shut it hard enough to rattle the pictures on my wall. I slipped my phone from my shirt pocket, stopped the audio recording, and set it carefully on my desk. My muscles were singing with adrenaline, and I had to take several deep breaths before I calmed down. I slumped into my chair, and swiveled to face my windows.



"Nick?"



Cynthia stood in my doorway, a question on her face, and I motioned her inside. "Come in."



"Was that David?"



"Yep."



"What did he want?"



"Not entirely sure. Our conversation was short."



Her eye brows rose. "Ahh."



"What's up? How's Nikki."



"Better," she said. "Much better. She's going to pick the girls up from school, and take a few days off."



"I'm glad she's feeling better." I cocked my head. "Is she coming home?"



"Not yet. She needs a little more time."



"Time for what?"



"Hang on." She stepped to my door and peered out, looking for someone. A second later, Collin stepped into my office. "I asked Collin to join us."



"Morning, Nick," he said. 



My eyes glanced between them. "Am I about to get whacked?" 



"Figuratively," Collin added. 



"Yeah," Cynthia replied without missing a beat. "Not literally."



"Okay," I said. "What's going on?"



Cynthia took point. "Do you remember when Nicole used to say she lost control when she was with Collin, and with me?"



"Yeah," I replied. "She says it about David too."



"Makes sense." She took a breath. "Nick, your wife really does lose control."



"What do you mean?"



Collin answered. "She means; Nicole surrenders herself to the moment. She surrenders and submits to her partner's desires. Much of her pleasure comes from that surrender."



"Surrenders?"



He sat forward. "She gives herself over to whoever she's with sexually. Whatever she's asked, she'll do. Anything that's demanded, she'll perform." He took a breath. "It's great at first, but then it becomes a scary responsibility. Imagine having someone who'll do anything you ask. <i>Anything</i>."



"I still don't understand," I said with a shake of my head. "She acts like a slave?"



"No," Cynthia replied. "But she becomes submissive to the point where it can be unhealthy."



"That's hard to believe, guys. I've never seen her act that way." I nodded at Collin. "Not even when I used to watch you two together."



"Your wife responds to dominant personalities, Nick. Cynthia and I agree that dominant black men affect her the most."

"Okay," I said. "I've seen how she gets with David. She acted the same with you. I still don't see what you're getting at?"



"Dominants come in all sorts of flavors," he said. "I reside on the mild side of that particular spectrum. David-."



"Resides on the other," Cynthia added firmly. "He's much more old-school."



"I see."



"No. You don't." She held my eyes. "If Nicole continues with David, she'll lose herself. I know it. He'll bend her to his will until there's nothing left of her."



"Little dramatic, don't you think?"



"No," Collin added. "He's done it before, Nick. A long time ago."



I clenched my fist, and when I spoke, it was through gritted teeth. "Why didn't you say anything?"



"Like I said, it was a long time ago. He was a different person then, and the situation was completely different. The woman in question was single, his girlfriend, and everyone, myself included, thought they were happy together."



"What happened?"



"They separated after almost two years together," he replied. "And six months after their separation, she committed suicide."



"Fuck me."



"I didn't learn about the details until much later. David swore he'd never assume responsibility for another submissive. He joined a group, some sort of underground dominant/submissive/swinger's society, where he could indulge his need to be dominant, but within strict guidelines." He sighed. "I believe her death is why he's insisted on staying single."



"David gave me." I shook my head. "Gave us, Nicole and I, the impression he was new at this sort of thing."



"To a cuckold-style relationship, he is new, but he's very experiences in dominance and submission."



Cynthia met my eyes. "Fox. Henhouse." 



"Stop." Collin nudged her, and shook his head. "Nicole has obviously changed everything," he continued. "And I can see why. She's gorgeous, smart, and submissive. I honestly don't think David could resist himself. He probably sees it as fulfilling both of your needs."



"Let me get this straight," I said and sat up. "Both of you are suggesting, Nicole can't manage her submissiveness. Forgive me, but that doesn't explain why she's so...shaken up. I get the sense that something else, something more than my fight, has happened." I paused. "You're saying she's <i>too </i>submissive? And that's all?"



"In so many words," Collin said. "That's what we're suggesting. Think of it this way, buddy. Nicole knows how to swim, but she wasn't ready to be thrown into the ocean." 



"Yes. Good analogy." Cynthia finished, and motioned at me. "Was it easy for you to control your feelings, desires, and submissiveness when we were together?"

My eyebrows rose at her question, and I ran a hand over my jaw. Memories of wearing a chastity belt, panties, and submitting to Cynthia's commands flashed through my head. Sexual activity of that type is addictive, but I could shut it off afterwards. 



"No. It's not easy to manage. When you're in the moment, everything feels amazing, like your body is filled with sexual electricity."



"Exactly. It can be scary, and Nicole is struggling to manage her desires and fears."



"Okay, so what do we do?"



Cynthia and Collin exchanged a glance, and he motioned for her to lead. "First, I'd like Nicole to stay with me. I'm the most neutral of everyone."



"Neutral? I seem to remember you two sharing a bed."



"We shared more than a bed, Nick." 



"I'm aware."



"But yes, as far as Nikki is considered, I'm neutral, and I'd like to support her."



"I think it's a good idea."



I glanced at my partner, and then nodded. "Fine. I agree."



"Good. Second, I want her to quit working with David. It's too much time with him."



"Agree," I said emphatically. "One thousand percent."



"Finally, I think it's a bad idea for her to be shared by David. At least for the time being."



"What?" My mouth dropped open, but I recovered quickly. "Fuck shared! How about she stops seeing him altogether. Let's make that condition number three."



"No."



"No," Collin echoed. 



"Nick." She took another breath. "Nikki and David enjoy each other's company. He's a good fit for her, but she needs time to adjust and he needs to learn to manage her submissiveness. They both need to find the right limits."



"Besides, if she doesn't continue with David." He paused meaningfully. "She'll seek out someone else. Better the devil you know."



"Bullshit," I snapped. "Let's just quit this crap altogether. Nicole and I did just fine before all this started."



My two partners sat back in their chairs, and studied me without speaking. Silence filled the room. Awkward at first, the silence grew until it felt oppressive. Still, we kept staring at each other. Finally, Collin decided to be the adult.



"You're my friend, and business partner, Nick, and I'm not passing judgment on you. But would you be here today if your relationship was just fine? For better or worse, a bell has been rung, and you can't un-ring it. If this is what Nicole wants, if it's what she needs, do you really want to stand in the way?"



I saw his point, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. I'd read a quotation somewhere that suggested it was easier for people to close their minds, than it was to close their eyes. As I sat reflecting on Collin's statement, I realized that quotation was correct. 



Collin was right. I just didn't want to face it. 



I took a long, deep breath. "You have a point."



He nodded graciously, but didn't respond, and Cynthia took over the conversation again. "You're more likely to lose your wife by shutting David out."



Marriage. It isn't easy. 



It's not complex, but it sure as hell isn't easy. I'd always thought the point of marriage was to strive to make your partner as happy as they made you. I'd never seen Nicole happier than when she was with Collin, or Cynthia, or David. My wife needed something I couldn't provide. It wasn't easy to admit, but it was true nonetheless. 



"It's okay, Nick." 



Cynthia must have sensed the direction of my thoughts. I rolled my eyes, shrugged my shoulders, and searched for something to say. Words escaped me. 



"You may not be a dominant personality, buddy," Collin said. "That's okay. Nicole loves you. Cynthia and I know she loves you. She needs you just the way you are, so don't go thinking you should change."



"Thanks," I said, and meant it. "Let's try it your way, Cyn."



"Excellent. I'll call David."



"If you need help with him, let me know," Collin said. "He'll listen to me."



"Sounds good." She checked her watch, and started to stand. "I've got a meeting in thirty minutes."



Collin put his hand on hers. "Before you go, I have something you two need to hear."



"Make it quick," she said, and then motioned at him. "Please."



"There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to blurt it out, and explain as I go." He took a breath. "I'm leaving San Antonio." He glanced between us. "Actually, I'm leaving Texas altogether."



"What?" Cynthia and I asked simultaneously. 



"Sorry to spring this on you, but I had a call from an associate in New York. A private equity group up there wants me to join their organization."



"Wow."



"It's a great opportunity," he said modestly. 



"Yeah," I said. "Sounds like it."



"Anyway," he continued. "After I turned them town several times, they finally came back with an offer I couldn't refuse. It's...generous."



"I'm happy for you."



"I'm not," Cynthia joked. "Jerk."



She glared at him playfully, and he winked back. "Their offer isn't just for me, Cyn."



"Oh shit," I replied. "What do you mean?"



"They've given me two offers. The first offer is for my stake in the company. Basically, they'd buy me out, and leave you two alone."



"And the second?" Cynthia prompted



A smile pasted itself on his lips, and he paused to dramatize the moment. "The second offer is for the entire company. All three divisions."



"No fuckin way," I breathed.



Cynthia was more practical. "How much?" 



He walked over to the dry erase board hanging in my office, and started writing numbers next to dollar signs. 



They were big numbers. 



He pointed to the top number. "Our revenues for the last fiscal year."



"The percentage each of us owns." He pointed to the next line of numbers. 



The dry erase pen tapped against the board. "This third line amount represents the amount of goodwill. Basically, the difference between our yearly revenues, and the total offer price."



"Finally." He bent, wrote three big numbers, and then added our names under each one. "This represents what each of us would make on the sale." He smiled. "Before taxes."



"That's." I cleared my throat several times. "A lot of goodwill."



Cynthia was more eloquent. "Fuckin' A."



"Like I said, I turned them down several times, and when they wouldn't go away, I threw out an insane number." He shrugged. "They didn't hesitate. It's likely the cost of our firm won't even merit a note in their financial statements. To them, it's simply the cost of acquiring talent."



Cynthia and I remained silent, unable to process the numbers on the board. They represented more than dollars. 



"There are two conditions," he said. "A standard five-year non-compete agreement goes along with the sale." 



I nodded. "Okay." 



"And they want to participate in our start-up."



"Gunter?"



"Is fine with it," he confirmed. "I spoke to him already. He'd like the help, and they're willing to commit additional capital for an equity stake."



"We'd keep..."



"Our ownership position," he said. "That wouldn't change."



"Time." Cynthia croaked. "I need some time."



"Fine. Their offer doesn't have an expiration date, but I don't want to drag this out. My recommendation is that we accept their offer. It's more than fair." He looked between us. "Can we make a final decision in say...ninety days? Is that enough time?"



"Yes," I said. 



"More than enough," Cynthia confirmed. 



"Cool." He pointed at us. "This has to stay confidential. Understand? Just between the three of us. If it gets out, our buyers have the flexibility to rescind the offer."



"Nicole? David?"



"Between the three of us," he stressed. "Our previous conversation is why I brought this up now. If the situation between all of you sours in any way, he's in a position to hurt this deal. We know a lot of the same people."



"He wouldn't go that far?" 



Collin didn't respond. He didn't have to, his eyes told me more than words ever could. 



"Fine. Understood." I nodded. "Why take the risk?"



"Good man. Cynthia?"



"Got it. Mum's the word."



He erased the numbers. Then he erased them again. I retrieved some cleaner from my desk, and wiped the board until it gleamed white. No trace of the numbers remained...on the board. 



My brain wouldn't forget them. Ever. 







***







"Hey, handsome." Cassidy poked her head past my door. "How about a nooner?"



"Can't. Lunch with my wife."



Her bottom lip shot out, and she pouted her way into my office. "Bummer."



"Sorry."



"I understand." She slipped onto my lap, and her arms settled around my shoulders. "Family comes first."



"It doesn't mean-."



Her finger pressed against my lips. "Shhhh, I know. How is your wife?"



"Confused. She needs some time."



"Away from you and the kids?" 



"Sort of," I said. "She's bunking with Cynthia."



"I'll bet your partner hates that," she said sarcastically. "Talk about carrying a torch."



"Stop. They ended a long time ago."



"For Nicole maybe, not Cynthia."



"Nicole's not a lesbian, Cassidy. If it was going to happen, it would've happened already."



"Uh huh." Her voice dripped with skepticism. "You say so."



"I say so," I said. "It's just temporary while she works some things out."



"Cool." She shrugged, and raised her hands. "I get it. Sorry. None of my business."



Just then my phone buzzed. A text. 







<i>Nicole: Sorry. I need a raincheck on lunch.







Me: You okay?







Nicole: Fine. Thanks for asking. I've got the kids after school.







Me: Understood. Dinner?







Nicole: No. Not yet. Soon. Love you.







Me: Love you too</i>







My marriage had been reduced to texts. A textual relationship? Is that what we had now? I sighed, raised my eyes, and found Cassidy studying me. Her expression held several emotions, none of which I could decipher. My phone slipped into my pocket, and I forced a smile. 



"Still up for lunch?"



"Absolutely," she said, and her expression turned hungry. "My place?"



I hesitated, unsure about what to do. Nicole was struggling emotionally, and even though she didn't need my help, it still felt wrong to be with another woman. Even one as gorgeous as Cassidy, who knew our situation, and didn't come with a set of expectations. 



"Please?" I looked up. "We don't have to have sex. I just miss you." Her hand patted my chest. "I'll cook for you."



"Okay," I said. "Let's go."



"Awesome." Her face brightened. "I'll meet you at your car. Five minutes."



"Sounds good."



She bounced out of my office. I couldn't help smiling, as I locked my computer, and found my keys. 



<i>No sex, Nick. No sex. </i>



I meant it as a hard and fast rule. 



It felt more like a prayer. 



Or a suggestion.



Maybe a guideline?



Cassidy lived close to the office. A five-minute drive under normal traffic conditions. Not this time. The flashing lights of a police cruiser lit up my back windshield as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot. 



An improper turn citation. 



The officer spent almost thirty minutes checking my license, registration, and insurance, before he handed it back to me. Fortunately, the citation had the officer's contact information, so I kept it, and reminded myself to call my attorney's office. I pulled out into traffic, and immediately noticed the officer following me. He followed me all the way to the restaurant, and parked across the street. 

<hr pg="3" />Cassidy noticed. "What's the deal?"



"Fall-out from the other night."



"Nick, that's not right."



"I know," I replied. "But my attorney's aware. Let's just-"



"Fuck that!" 



She slammed the door, and started towards the officer's patrol car. Her fists were clenched, and tension radiated from her body as she stalked away. I locked the car, ran after her, and managed to catch her before she earned a jay-walking citation. 



"No." I wrapped my arm around her waist, and pulled her to a stop. "Let's just go inside. We'll bring lunch back to the office."



"Ni-."



"I'm serious, honey. Leave it alone. My attorney's on it."



"Fine,' she said. "But I'm taking this jerk's picture."



"That's not necessa-."



"SMILE!" 



Her voice carried across the street. The officer tried to face forward, but I knew she got his face in the picture, and his entire patrol car. 



"Now." She turned, stuffed her phone in her purse, and offered me a tight smile. "Let's get lunch."



"Thank you."



"Then we're going to test out your new couch." She pinched my ass. "It looks comfortable."



Sandwiches make the perfect to-go lunch item. We added chips to our order, agreed to share a brownie, and then left. The patrol car was gone. 



Coincidence? 



Nope. I received another citation on the way back. Improper lane change. It was a different officer this time, and he was just as slow as the first. Cassidy had a few choice words, but I calmed her down before she really got rolling. Woman has a temper. I also got the sense the officer didn't want to involve her, so in a weird way, she made the experience better. 



When we arrived in my office, I called my new attorney. He cursed in frustration, odd for an attorney, and promised to stop by for the dash cam footage. When I hung up the phone, I found Cassidy testing the new couch. 



Naked. 



Our lunch sandwiches sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, but my mind wasn't focused on food. My eyes were sending laser beams of raw desire straight at Cassidy's naked body. 



She does naked really, <i>really </i>well.



Burning desire blazed from her eyes, and her lips tugged into a deliciously evil smile as she stepped over to me. Her fingers slid through my hair. She pressed her lips against mine in a kiss that started soft, but turned passionate. She slid her leg up and hooked a calf behind my thighs. We were both breathless when our kiss broke. 



"Love kissing you," she breathed. 



I smiled. "Back at ya."



"Clothes." Her fingers started on my tie. "Off."



My hands drifted towards my belt, but truthfully, Cassidy did most of the work. She even folded my shirt and slacks, slowly, and with maximum display of her nakedness. 



She knew the effect she had on me, and she loved it. 



Here's the kicker. I loved it to. 



It was one of those 'mutually beneficial' things.



She pushed down on the couch, and straddled my lap. Her lips parted, and her eyes were heavy, half-closed, and she moaned quietly as she slid me inside her. Her hips moved with liquid grace, and she bobbed a few times, before I slid completely inside. 



"Better," she hissed, and moaned once more. 



I'd lost the capacity for speech. Being inside my girlfriend was an all-encompassing sensation, and the way she moved her hips kept me from forming rational thoughts. Lost in the moment. Tumbling through a surf of angry pleasure, I didn't realize she'd reached back until the potato chip pressed against my lips. 



"Open," she whispered. I opened my mouth, and she pressed the potato chip against my tongue. "Good."



Her body shuddered above me, and she pressed her hips hard against mine. Her nipples, hard and erect, brushed my chest. The intimacy of our sex was indescribable. 



She moaned again, and then sucked in a breath. "I've heard men have two moods...horny and hungry." Our eyes met, our breath mingled as we both struggled to keep from crying out. "I'm going to fuck you, as I feed you, so I can make sure both of my man's moods are satisfied."



Before I could respond, my sandwich appeared next, and she pushed it into my hands. "Eat."



Robotically, I took a small bite of my sandwich. 



Cassidy smiled at me, placed her hands on the back of the couch and proceeded to fuck me senseless. Somewhere during the blurred frenzy of undulating hips, her firm ass, and perky tits, I lost track of my sandwich. Each time she descended on my cock, I bit back a loud groan, and I found myself biting my lips to keep from orgasming. 



Cassidy rode me until I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and the wave of pleasure threatened to become a tsunami. She must have sensed my predicament, because just as the sweet, exquisite pleasure of an orgasm exploded in my body, she pressed her lips against mine again. Our moans of pleasure mixed in our mouths. 



We tilted sideways and collapsed on the couch, prone and spooning together. Afterglow didn't being to describe how good we felt. The sex had been so good, it left us spent and giggling like crazy people. 



Amazing, mind-blowing...sex. 



Oh, and the new couch was really comfortable.



"Do I look like I just had sex?" Cassidy faced me after we finally made it off the couch. She turned in a slow circle. "My hair okay in the back? Everything in its place?"



I'm a guy, so I took my time studying her hourglass figure. Her body looked almost as good dressed as it did naked. She made another turn, noticed my smile, and rolled her eyes. "Earth to Nick? How do I look?"



"Beautiful. Gorgeous." I stood and kissed her. "And completely fine. No sign of sex anywhere."



"Good." She patted my chest. "I'd really like to have you for more than a few minutes in your office though."



"I know. It's just difficult right now."



"I understand. But." She nodded and fiddled with my tie. "Just think about it will you? We don't have to have sex. Maybe I could come over for dinner, and watch a movie with you and your girls."



"I'd like that," I admitted. "Let me think about it."



"Want me to ask Nicole? I'd like to get to know her better."



"Uh, that's probably not a good idea."



"C'mon," she said. "I'll be nice. I promise."



"It's not you I worry about. It's her. She's fragile right now."



"Fine," she said. "Think about it then."



She'd given in, but she hadn't given up. I understood, and respected her position. Cassidy deserved more than a strictly sexual relationship, and while having sex in my office was still fun and exciting, I knew it would get old quick.



"I will. I promise."



"Thank you." She stepped over to my desk, and retrieved her clutch purse. "Hey. What's this?"



She held up the item David had left earlier. "I'm not sure. David left it."



The device was small, rectangular, and she slid back the cover. "It's a jump drive. I wonder what's on it?"



"Good question."



"Here." She handed it to me. "Let's find out."



I slid behind my desk, and pushed the drive into my personal laptop. A few mouse clicks later, and my computer informed me there were no viruses on the drive. Cassidy slid behind my chair, leaned over my back, and settled her hand on my shoulder. 



"A video file," I said. "Weird."



"Open it," she urged. "Let's see what's on them."



I hesitated, and glanced at her. "Maybe we shouldn't."



"What? Seriously? Don't you want to know?"



"Yeah," I admitted. "I do. But..."

"Well?"



"Okay." 



My heart thumped, slow and hard, and I felt my breath grow short and uneven. 



David left this with me. 



It had to involve Nicole. 



My index finger double-clicked on the video icon.



"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome." A black screen showed nothing, but a low voice shot out of my computer speakers. "I'd like all of you to gather around."



The slowly dissolved, revealing what looked like a huge, beautiful hotel room suite. The camera panned around. At least a dozen figures stood in a loose semi-circle, each one wearing a tuxedo and a mask that covered their faces.



"Holy shit," I whispered, and paused the video.



"Interesting." Cassidy leaned in closer. "Kinda kinky."



I clicked again and the video started again. Initially, the movie Eyes Wide Shut flashed through my mind, but as the video panned around the room, I realized that wasn't accurate. The mask each person wore covered their entire face, had a shiny, metallic appearance, and resembled a skull. Each mask was intricately adored with colored metals and gems. The skull-masks, combined with the formal attire, gave the video an ominous aura. As if something horrible was about to happen, but the people on in that hotel room would applaud, and consider it beautiful. 



I studied the bodies on the screen. The skull masks were not all the same, some had a masculine appearance, while other had a decidedly female look to them. 



Men and women. 



At least, the feminine masks belonged to bodies that resembled females, and the same applied to the masculine masks. 



"Thank you." The deep voice said. "As you know, the position of Queen of Spades is a high honor, but also a tremendous responsibility. For over a century, the Queen of Spades has been the most highly sought after title across the globe." He paused. "And for good reason. Am I right?"



The skull masks applauded and cheered. 



"Candidates for the position are carefully selected from a variety of areas. The title of Queen of Spades has been held by housewives, businesswomen, heads of state, and even royal and presidential families."



A dull rumble of laughter washed through the audience. The speaker paused for his own chuckle, before continuing. 



 "Our organization goes to great lengths to investigate the background and temperament of each candidate. Only after successfully passing our entrance requirements, are the candidates allowed the opportunity to begin formal training. Our process has never once failed, and it consistently produces the highest quality Spade Queens."



Another round of applause. 



"Tonight." His voice rose, heavy with dramatic license. "We have three candidates for your review and approval. Please keep in mind, these candidates have already passed the background examination. They've been nominated by at least two members in good standing, and each of them has been assigned a female sponsor." Your role tonight is to meet them, interact with them, question them, and if you want." Silence settled into the room, and I could feel the heavy, sweet tension of raw anticipation. It dripped from every surface of the room. "You may sample them."



The room erupted with more applause. Fists rose in a strange salute, and champagne flutes were raised in the air. The celebration was short-lived however, as the sound of a spoon rapping against crystal filled the air. 



"Chancellor, lords, and honored guests."



A smooth, sultry female voice sounded from the right. The camera panned slowly, and revealed a gorgeous blonde, wearing a beautiful formal gown. An intricately jeweled tiara sparkled on her head. She stood next to a heavy velour curtain. I paused the video and studied her. 



"Nice tiara," I said dryly. "Rhinestones, probably."



"Crown." Cassidy said flatly. "That's not a tiara, honey. That's a crown, and those jewels look awfully genuine."



"What's the difference?"



"Crown goes around the entire head, tiara doesn't, and in this case, I think the difference is more than a few inches." I stared at her blankly, and she rolled her eyes. "Mall Cop vs FBI agent. College sports vs Professional sports. Beauty Queens versus Real Queens. There's a reason why one wears a tiara, and the other wears a crown." She motioned at the screen. "She's definitely a queen of some sort."



"Ahhh," I said, finally getting it. 



I clicked play again. 



"Our three candidates will be unveiled in a moment. Before we begin however, I'd like to remind you that their dossiers are available for reading on the back table. You're welcome to question them at your discretion." 



She paused and glanced around the room. When she was satisfied she had everyone's attention, she motioned at the crowd. "If you'd like to sample one of our candidates, please see me at the bar. As you know, bidding is in U.S. dollars and only the highest bidder is selected. The sampling can take no longer than an hour, and no visible marks may be left on their bodies." A carnivorous smile slid across her face. "Winners are encouraged however, to fully indulge themselves. High definition video recording is complimentary, and included in the cost of your bid. Spectators are allowed at the winner's discretion."



A light smattering of applause followed her comments. 



"Thank you for your patience. Here are your candidates."



Her hands slid behind the curtain. She flashed a killer smile at the audience, drawing out the moment, and allowing the anticipation to increase even further. 



The curtain slid parted to reveal a short, empty hallway. 



"Please welcome..."







The screen went black.







"What the fuck?"



It was my voice, but it sounded far away. Time stopped. My hands trembled, my stomach flipped over, and I swallowed several times before I was sure I wouldn't vomit. My eyes wouldn't leave the screen. 



The video. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. A fake, staged for my benefit. David was just pulling my chain, some sort of sick power game. Even if it were real, I hadn't seen my wife. Nikki wasn't in the video...right?



<i>Nicole. She's married. She's got kids. She wouldn't do. </i>



I gulped. 



<i>She wouldn't.</i>



I wiped the sweat from my forehead. 



<i>Yes. Yes. That's why she's broken. </i>



Why she needs time to...recover? It's probably why she can't face me. Why she won't sleep with me. In our home. 



"-ick!" Hands were shaking me. "Nick! Answer me!"



I sucked in a ragged breath. "Fine."



Cassidy hugged me. "You scared me."



"Sorry," I said and shook my head. "I'm fine. Just surprised."



"No. You're not." She spun my chair around until our eyes met. "You're done for the day."



"Cassi-."



"Don't argue," she interrupted and held out her hand. "I'm taking you home. Don't worry about your car, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, and bring you to work."



Cassidy pulled me to my feet, and a distant part of my brain registered surprise at her insistency. I'd scared her. 



Hell, I was scared myself. 



The video? 



It...didn't...make...sense.

