Evil Cheating / Strong Response

"What are his symptoms?" Betsy asked.

"Abdominal and back pain, weight loss, nausea and diarrhea. I'm not about to play doctor, but I did look them up on the Internet and they all point to a number of serious conditions," I replied in an even more solemn tone.

After a pause Betsy spoke. "I'm not an oncologist, but from what I know the most serious real possibility is pancreatic cancer, especially since this came up suddenly, didn't it?"

"Oh shit – pancreatic cancer! Yeah, his symptoms did come up very suddenly; he was fine last weekend and real sick today. Can you give him a call and tell him to see someone? Low pressure, of course."

"Sure; is his number the same as your previous home number?"

"Yes. By the way, isn't Tim Roberts an oncologist?" I subtly inquired.

"Yes; but will Todd go to someone he knows?"

"Todd doesn't know him, even though you and I do. Maybe you could recommend him."

"I'll suggest that to Todd since I know that Tim is a great doctor," Betsy replied.

"Thanks so, so much, Betsy, I owe you one – now go get that foot massage – but call Todd first," I laughed.

"You slave driver," Betsy giggled in reply. "Will do."

My next call, on yet another burner phone, was to a local doctor who had lost his medical license and who – like the pharmacist I had worked with – was also desperate for money. I had hired him for $1,000 cash up front, $5,000 more when his job was done.

"Dr. James; this is Ms. Jones. You will likely shortly be receiving a call from Todd Pratt on the 3287 burner phone that I gave you. You know what to do," I said into the receiver.

"Yes I do know what to do; I'll report as per your instructions," James replied then hung up.

After a delay long enough to be sure that Betsy had called Todd I called him.

"Todd, did you talk to Betsy?"

"Yes...groan... I just got off the phone with her."

"What did she recommend?"

"She...cough...groan... said that I should see an oncologist; Tim somebody."

"Tim Roberts?"

"Yeah, I guess...groan."

"You're in luck. I have his emergency number since I recommended him to another friend a few months back and since Betsy and I both know him and his wife from college. Now write this down – Todd, do you hear me, write this number down and then call him!"

"Oh – OK – let me get a pen... OK, ... groan... go ahead."

"His emergency number is xxx-xxx-3287. Call him – you're the caregiver for our kids, you have to do it for them! Got it!"

"xxx-xxx-3287; I'll call right now. Thanks," Todd replied in a weak voice.

Early afternoon on Sunday I got a call from Dr. James on my burner cell. After we exchanged terse greetings he got right to the point.

"I visited Mr. Pratt at his home yesterday. A woman who introduced herself as Cheryl was also there. I inquired about his symptoms, gave him a thorough examination, suggested that he take some more nausea medicine, drew some blood, got his health insurance information, and told him that I'd put a rush on the blood work and get back to him Tuesday."

"Had they checked Tim Roberts out on the Internet?" I asked.

"Yes, as you expected they had, which gave me instant credibility. I guess you were lucky that there is no photo of him on his website," James replied.

"Luck had nothing to do with it. Tim is a great guy, and doctor, but due to an accident when he was in college his face is not one that would inspire confidence in potential patients, so I wasn't surprised that he never posted a photo on his website," I responded.

"Whatever," James obnoxiously replied.

"Did Todd ask what he might have?" I inquired.

"Of course; I asked him if he wanted me to be straight with him. When he replied 'Yes,' I told him that it most likely was pancreatic cancer and if that was the case that he only had only a couple of weeks to live."

"What was his reaction?" I asked, trying to hide my glee.

"What you would expect. He slumped down in his chair, mumbled something like 'Oh Shit,' and then closed his eyes."

"What was the woman's reaction?" I asked, this time for sure not really hiding my glee.

"She looked more disgusted than concerned," James replied.

I had to cover the mouthpiece of the phone to stifle my laugh.

"Thanks, Doc. After you call him Tuesday with his confirmatory blood test results I'll bring you your cash, as agreed."

"Can you bring it all in twenties?" James inquired.

"I'll bring it any way you like it – plus a bonus for a job well done," I replied and then terminated the call.

When I dropped the kids off Sunday night Todd looked even worse.

"God, Todd – you look like Hell. Have you made an appointment with a doctor yet?" were my first, 'concerned,' words.

"Yeah, I saw one yesterday, the Roberts guy Betsy recommended" he moaned. "I really need to talk, Amy; can you put the kids to bed first, I feel like shit."

I pretended to be surprised. "OK; sure...as long as Cheryl isn't here."

"She isn't and won't be back tonight," he mumbled without making eye contact.

"Right," I replied, laughing on the inside but retaining my composure on the outside. I hurried upstairs, got the kids ready for bed, read them two stories, and then went back downstairs. Todd was slumped over on the couch.

"What gives, Todd; what did the doctor say?"

Todd sighed. "I won't know for sure until Tuesday, but the doctor said that it's probably pancreatic cancer."

"What?" I yelled. "That's fatal!"

"I know," Todd moaned, with tears forming in his eyes. "He said that I had about two weeks to live if it is pancreatic cancer."

Falling back on my thespian roots tears welled in my eyes. I went and sat next to Todd and held his head against my chest. In the past this would have turned me on and my pussy would already be leaking. Now it sickened me, but "the show must go on."

I just sat there patting Todd's head as he quietly sobbed. "When will Cheryl be back?" I asked with a gentle tone.

"She said that she got an emergency call from her Mom; but I think my illness is too much for her to handle. I don't know when she'll be back," he sobbed.

After a pause I asked "What shall we do about the kids? Can you take care of them?"

Todd's sobbing was now more dramatic. After a long delay he sniveled out "I can't do what I need to do as a father. Can you take them; at least until I find out for sure about my condition?"

"Of course, Todd; we have to do what's best for the kids. Let me make a few calls right now; can you just lie on the couch? Do you want a Scotch?" I said trying to suppress a snicker.

"Thhh...anks, Amy; yeah, a Scotch would be great."

I made him another Scotch and watched him drink it and then pretended to be on my cellphone for the next half hour. When I got off I somberly said "At least some good news. I can stay home tomorrow and get help for the kids for the rest of the week. I probably should stay in the guest room tonight so that I don't have to wake up the kids. If the news is bad I'll arrange for hospice care for you, OK?"

With a glazed expression Todd looked up at me. "Thanks, Amy."

I helped him to bed, got my overnight bag out of my car, and quickly fell asleep in the guest room, despite how giddy I was that my plan was working perfectly.

The next morning I made breakfast for the kids, made sure that Todd took more of his spiked nausea medicine, then took the kids to my rental house. I worked from home Monday and Tuesday, with help from a temporary nanny, Mrs. Jensen having resigned from Todd's employ when she found out about (and reported to me) his affairs.

Once former doctor James called me on Tuesday to tell me that he had told Todd that the blood test confirmed that he had pancreatic cancer and that he likely had about two weeks to live I had the nanny watch the kids, put on my professional disguise, and drove to James' house. I parked a block away and walked up to his door and rang the bell. When he answered I handed him a brown bag.

"$5,000 cash, in twenties, like we agreed, plus a $1,000 bonus in fifties for a job well done," I said trying to disguise my voice.

James got a big smile on his face. "This really helps me – times have been really tough since I lost my license. If you need me again, let me know."

"Will do," I replied, then turned and walked away.

I removed my disguise and went to see Todd. I had to pound on the door for five minutes before he answered – I didn't want to go in through the garage because I didn't want him to know that I had access to the house. When he answered it was clear that he was emotionally drained.

"Did Dr. Roberts call you?" were my first words.

"Yes.... I have two weeks to live," he blurted out between sobs.

I comforted him as I led him to the living room couch. "Is Cheryl here?"

"No, she left; she said that she had to go see her Mom, but I know that that cunt deserted me. I never should have cheated on you, Amy – I'm so sorry," he said while bawling so much that it was almost unintelligible.

"Yeah, I'll bet you're sorry now you fucking asshole," I said to myself while continuing to offer words of encouragement out loud.

After about a half an hour Todd had settled down. I brought him another drink of his spiked Scotch, then said "Todd, we have to talk about the kids' future."

"Amy... I... this is hard to say... I don't want to continue the divorce; I'll die married to my kids' mother," Todd moaned.

"Todd, you're illness has made it so that you're not thinking straight. Anticipating the bad news, let me tell you what's best for you, the kids, and your mother; OK, Hon?" The word "Hon" almost choked me.

"What, Amy?"

"We both sign divorce papers immediately that indicate that the $1 million you get from the pre-nup automatically vests; you leave all your assets, which are really just the $1 million and your personal possessions, in your will to your Mom. If we don't do that, and stay married, then your Mom will get nothing when you die," I said in a serious voice.

After a pause Todd got as big a smile as he could muster and said "You'd do that for me and my Mom?"

"Hon," I replied, again almost choking, "I know how much your Mom means to you, and there is no reason for me to be mean to you now that you are on death's door."

"Thanks, dear," Todd responded, misty eyed.

"To make sure that the kids are probably taken care of we should have joint custody for three weeks, and after that I have sole custody, and if a miracle happens and you live longer than that, you have liberal visitation rights. Of course I'll bring them to see you ever day," I said, squeezing Todd's hand.

After he smiled the best he could and said "Thank you... you're wonderful," I said "how about another Scotch to ease your pain."

The next day I got Todd, with his attorney present, to sign the divorce settlement and his new will leaving all his money and possessions to his mother, or if she pre-deceased him to his kids. I added a proviso that I would pay for his hospice care until he died or no longer needed it. The papers were filed with the Court the next day, and my female attorney who was a judge's daughter made sure that they would be expedited by the clerk of the court. I also deposited a check for $1 million into an account just in Todd's name.

I moved Todd into a fake hospice care facility that same day. I removed from the house the spiked Scotch and nausea medicine and disposed of them many miles away, and replaced them with new bottles from which I poured out the same amount as was gone from the disposed-of bottles. When I brought the kids to see Todd the next day I had some "good news" for him.

"Todd, I've paid for your Mom to be here tomorrow. Even better, I've been searching the whole world for someone who's got an experimental treatment for pancreatic cancer, and I found something. A doctor in Romania has a chemical that either cures it within ten days, or kills you within two. Are you game to try it?"

"Hell yes!" Todd virtually screamed.

I got the fake release papers for the "experimental treatment" prepared and signed by both Todd and his Mom, and gave the fake hospice doctor a saline solution to inject into Todd. The fake experimental drug protocol called for Todd to be injected five days in a row. I made sure that they used really dull needles so that it would inflict maximum pain on him.

It took ten days for the chemicals that I had been plying Todd with to be purged from his system. Since he was weak from three weeks of inactivity he didn't really start feeling better for another four days; by then he had had a "miracle" recovery.

I continued to treat Todd nicely. I had him move into the house that I had leased since the rent was paid up for two more months, and I didn't want him to get suspicious about his illness or miraculous recovery. I even tried to be nice to his mother, which got a little easier since she had been changed by the situation and became only a half bitch instead of the total bitch that she had been since the day I met her. Finally, I gave Todd visitation rights every weekday. I would get the triplets ready for preschool in the morning and the nanny – who I now had on full time – would drive them to school. Todd would pick them up from school about noon and have time with them until four p.m., at which time he would drop them off with the nanny; I would get home about 6:30, at which time I would have dinner with them, and with the nanny's help get them in bed by 8:30.

I don't know exactly what Todd's motivation was but he was making a concerted effort to be nice to me too, including calling me every day to tell me that he had dropped the kids off. He even begged to go with the kids and me to the playground, zoo, or other kid friendly places on Sunday, the nanny's day off. After he helped me get kids ready for bed one Sunday after they had become ultra-cranky due to too much stimulation that day he didn't leave right away.

"Can we have a Scotch and talk for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'll give you a foot rub if you still have some of my Aberlour 14 around?"

"I think so," I laughed walking toward the liquor cabinet. "I'd think that you would have bad associations with that stuff from your illness, though."

"No, actually, it was one of the few things – aside from your kindness – that got me through it. In fact I even bought myself a fifth of Aberlour 18 to celebrate my recovery," he said with a smile.

"How much did that cost you?" I asked.

"$75, I think; worth every penny," he continued as I handed him the one-third full bottle of Aberlour 14 that I had replaced the doctored bottle with.

After he poured himself a tumbler of Scotch and me a glass of wine we went into the living room, I sat on the couch and put my feet up. He removed my shoes and started rubbing. It felt sooo fucking good that I literally purred. As he was working on me, while we each occasionally sipped our drinks, he started his "talk."

"Say, Amy – I know that I treated you like shit and I have no right to ask, but do you think that it is possible that we might get together again?"

Without even opening my eyes I said "Oh, right there, Todd – that feels good. What was it that you asked?" Obviously I had heard him but I wanted to inflict maximum pain on him by acting blasé; I had no intention of even seriously considering getting back together with him as a couple, but I did want something from him. With young three kids and a high pressure job I didn't have time to date, and not much desire to either since I had been burned so badly by Todd; but that didn't mean that my pussy didn't need attention.

After a pause and some more foot rubbing, Todd said "Uh, what I asked, well, was, uh, even though I have no right to ask uh maybe we could think of getting back together."

"What's wrong with Cheryl – I thought that she was your true love; oh yeah, on the ball of my right foot, yeah," I smugly and nonchalantly replied.

"Well, this is embarrassing, but she turned out to be either really shallow or a gold-digger. I never heard from her again when she took off when she thought that I was terminally ill, and I have no interest in trying to contact the bitch."

"Well you're a good looking and sexy guy Todd, and since you're not tied down with triplets I'm sure that you can find someone better than me," I replied, again without opening my eyes and as nonchalantly as possible. "Plus, I don't think that I could ever forgive you. You're a great fuck, but I don't want a romantic relationship with a cheater."

"You have every right to be mad at me, and you're unbelievably awesome for seeing me through my illness; ... but maybe there's a way that I can make it up to you.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked, opening up my eyes for the first time.

Rather than responding verbally, Todd started moving his hands from my feet to my calves, then to my thighs. Considering how long it had been since I had been fucked, and considering that Todd fucked me way better than anyone else ever had, I saw no reason to resist.

It wasn't long before his fingers were in my pussy.

It wasn't long after that that my panties had been removed and his tongue was on my clit. "God he gives great oral," caromed through my mind as I started losing control. I did lose it completely when he shoved a finger up my ass just as he sucked my clit into his mouth.

After I came down from my first orgasm he put my heels on his shoulders then very deliberately inserted his cock into my cunt. I came again almost immediately, and a third time as he jettisoned a mammoth load of cum into me. Maybe he hadn't had a fuck for a long time too.

A fourth orgasm ensued when he sucked my clit again as his creampie was leaking out of my pussy.

After that night Todd and I have fucked on a regular basis. I usually even let him stay over on Sunday night if he promises to fuck me in the middle of the night. We average two-three times a week. I keep leading him on by pretending that I might take him back full time, but at this stage all I'm really after is his cock – and oral talents. I could never trust him again, so marriage is out of the question, and if I am honest with myself I don't really love him any more either. But how often can you get a super-talented fuck buddy who your kids love, and truly loves your kids in return?

It will be traumatic – for Todd, not me – if I ever do find someone else that I fall in love with. In the meantime I'm enjoying being a Mom and business executive and getting regularly serviced.