Getting Back to Square One

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A man fights for his self-respect.
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I was in a shitty mood when I wrote this. Although this story takes place in Red River Falls, it has absolutely nothing to do with anything regarding my other stories. I just wanted to write something about a guy getting some self-respect back. This story is pure BTB all the way. If you don't like that kind of story, that's fine; to each, his own. Just move along. If you're just gonna throw hand grenades, just move along. Go be a jerk on someone else's time.

Getting Back to Square One

The lights were off in the entire house and I sat at the kitchen waiting for them to come in. I knew who, I knew what and I knew where. I just didn't know why. Sometimes, it is absolutely amazing that you think you know a person so well that you can finish each other's sentences. And then, something comes out of the clear blue sky, which makes you realize that person was a complete stranger all along. Or perhaps they were someone who was just wearing a mask, hiding their true self from you. Maybe they were just a fraud. Yeah, that's a good word for it. A total fraud.

Either way, it didn't matter. I could try and analyze it all I wanted to but everything that happened did so because of choices; because what matters in the end are the choices we make. She made her choices. My friend made his choices. The problem was that her choices and his choices didn't match up well with my choices. And when I found out about everything going on from a source intimately close to the situation, I decided to make a new choice of my own.

I chose to unleash hell.

My house, I refuse to think of it as our house anymore, was a simple tri-level with a two-stall garage in a fairly comfortable middle-class neighborhood. My name is Tyson Peterson and I happen to be a Sergeant with the Red River Falls Police Department. Technically, I was supposed to be on duty that night. I work from 15:00 to 23:30, which is a shift I rather enjoy. My Lieutenant, Rich Striker, is a pretty cool guy. Our boss, Captain Pete Sturgeon, is hard to read most of the time and he can be a complete dick some of the time. Since Rich was off work today, though, I had to tell my Captain about my little problem. Much to my surprise, Captain Sturgeon actually said he understood and told me to take the rest of the shift off and let him know when my "problem" was taken care of.

And so, there I sat waiting for the proverbial fecal matter to strike the oscillating cooling device; waiting to unleash hell on a couple of people who will be rather surprised to experience it. My only concern was whether I could keep myself from going too far.

I heard the keys insert into the lock of the front door. Suddenly, a man and a woman who had obviously been drinking, stumbled and fell through the doorway, laughing.

"My God, it's dark in here!" my wife exclaimed. "The timer lights should have come on, at least."

"Doesn't matter," the man said. "We're not going to need lights for what we plan on doing!"

I could see their silhouettes merge into one as they embraced and engaged in some heavy kissing. It confirmed what I already knew but I still couldn't keep the acid from pouring into my stomach.

"Oh, God, you don't know how much I look forward to my one trip to Red River Falls each year," the man said. That man was Marty Parker, my former good friend, who lived in Brainerd, Minnesota with his wife Marsha. Marty and Marsha had been friends of Liza and mine for ten years. How in the hell Liza and Marty could do something like this to me and Marsha was beyond me. But there it was, right in front of me and only a few feet away. And in my own damned house!

"I look forward to this, too, Marty. But shouldn't we have gone to your hotel? I mean, Tyson will be home at 11:30. That doesn't give us much time."

"I'm gonna be here for three days, Liza. I'll more than make it up to you the next two nights, I promise!"

"You better," Liza said, pulling him in for a deep kiss. "But before we get started, I'm gonna grab another glass of wine from the kitchen. Want some?" she asked, slipping off her heels.

"What I want is for you to head upstairs to the bedroom and slip on that sexy lingerie I bought you. I'll get the wine. Just tell me where it is."

"Boy, you don't waste time, do you!"

"I didn't get to be successful by fucking off...except when I come to see you!" God, Marty was nauseating.

"Okay, give me a few minutes and I'll call you up! Don't take too long with the wine."

"Not a chance! My cock can't wait much longer! It needs to be in that incredible pussy of yours and soon!"

"And I can't wait to taste that cock of yours in my mouth!"

My heart sank once again. Getting a blowjob from Liza was a novel treat after twelve years of marriage; and a treat I didn't get to enjoy very often. But here she was making it sound like she'd do anything for Marty. I'd always heard that was the ultimate betrayal of an affair; the fact that your spouse does things for a lover that they won't do for you. If I find out Marty ever got to fuck Liza in the ass, I'll break both of their fucking necks!

Marty stumbled towards the kitchen, groping for a light switch along the way. I was standing in the corner of the adjoining dining room, out of the way but where I could still see him as he probed his way into the kitchen. Finally, he found his way to the fridge and took out a bottle of chilled wine. I knew that I hadn't bought any wine recently, which could only mean that Liza had been preparing for this evening.....just as my source said she had.

Marty held the fridge door open to light up the kitchen and seemed to take forever as he looked for glasses. "Hey, Liza?" he finally yelled. "Where are the glasses?"

"Top cupboard, just to the right of the dishwasher," she yelled back.

Marty dutifully grabbed the bottle of wine and managed to find the corkscrew in its drawer. He then grabbed two wine glasses and made his way back to the living room to head for the stairs. As he did so, I could see Liza coming down the stairs towards the living room. She was back lit by the light coming from the hallway and a wave of sadness cascaded over me as I could see how amazing she looked in stockings, garters, see-through crotchless panties that showed off her trimmed bush and pussy, a thin brassiere and some type of see-through top. Normally, I would have thought she looked downright heavenly or amazing. And 99 out of 100 men would have thought so tonight. But not me. Seeing her in that outfit simply brought out the beast mode.

I maneuvered in behind Marty as he stood there with his hands full, taking in the sight of Liza in all her glory. I deftly reached behind the china cabinet and flipped the hidden switch that illuminated the entire living room. Both Marty and Liza were taken aback by the sudden offense to their night vision. Suddenly, Liza realized it was me standing there and let out a blood curdling scream. Marty, still feeling the alcohol, turned dumbly to look behind him just as I brought the full weight of my collapsible baton down on his left leg just behind his kneecap.

Marty collapsed in a pile, suddenly bewildered by my sudden assault, and was too shocked to even scream or yell in pain. He didn't even have time to process the fact that it was me that had struck him. I shoved him forward onto his stomach, just like I would any perp that I was trying to take down and show some tough love to while making an arrest. Liza continued to scream.

"Liza, shut the fuck up!" I yelled. "If you don't stop screaming right this instant, I swear to God I am going to punch you in the face so fucking hard that you'll still be dizzy a year from now, you hear me?"

Liza, to my amazement, stopped screaming immediately and just nodded her head. She was scared shitless and shaking like a leaf. Suddenly, modesty became important, for some reason, and she covered her crotch with her shaking hands.

Marty tried to turn over, still reeling from the pain in his knee.

"Tyson? Is that you? Jesus, man, I --"

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! I punched him in the face repeatedly numerous times, shattering his nose and causing blood to spray all over the living room carpet.

"Oh, God, Tyson! Please stop! You'll kill him!" Liza shrieked.

"You just shut the fuck up, if you know what's good for you!"

I stood over Marty's body as I watched him gasp for breath. He was bleeding badly from his nose and from a few broken teeth, but not so profusely that he was in danger of bleeding to death. But we were definitely gonna have to get the carpet cleaned when this was all over with.

"Tyson, please! Enough already!" Liza pleaded.

"I'll decide when enough is enough!"

"Tyson, I swear to God! It's....it's...."

"It's what? Not what it looks like? Are you fucking kidding me, Liza? Are you seriously going to use that fucking cliché on me right now? How the fuck do you think I knew what was going on here tonight if it's not what it looks like? How do you think I knew to be here at this exact moment?"

Liza just stood there, horrified, trying to figure out some way of downplaying the whole scenario. But she had nothing. There was nothing to try and take away what had been going on for three years. THREE...FUCKING...YEARS!!! For three years, Marty made his little three-day business trip to Red River Falls and scheduled it for days he knew I would be working; a schedule he could only get from my lovely wife, Liza.

"Tyson," Marty said, trying to get up and spitting blood as he spoke, "it isn't as bad as it looks, I swear. It's just...a little fantasy, that's all."

"Bullshit, Marty. You can't even remotely sound convincing. Both of you should know that I know the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I knew what was going to go on here tonight and I know what has been going on for the last three years!"

"No, Ty. It isn't like that, man. I swear! This was the first time we were gonna-"

WHAM! I cold-cocked that motherfucker right in the mouth again.

"Do you like getting punched in the fucking face, Marty? Because every time I hear even a hint of a lie or any other bullshit coming out of that mouth of yours, I'm going to do my level best to try and punch my fist all the way down your fucking throat! Do you understand me?"

Marty just held up his hands in defeat as he laid there gasping for breath and trying to grit through the pain from my assault.

"Both of you are lucky I locked my gun in my safe. I really had a strong inclination to shoot you both in your cheating fucking heads."

"How...how much...do you...know?" Marty stammered.

"I think the question you want to ask, Marty, is 'how much do Marsha and I know'?"

Marty laid there and closed his eyes as he realized who had given him away.

"I gotta hand it to your wife, Marty. She's obviously a helluva lot less naïve and not even remotely as stupid as I am. Somehow, she figured out that you were going to be on business (finger quotes) in Red River Falls, the same town where your supposed good friends lived. Marsha wanted to know why you'd schedule a business trip here and not mention anything. Then, apparently she looked at your schedule from last year and figured out you made a trip here back then, too....and never said a fucking word about it."

"I...I never...I mean..."

"Don't even waste your fucking breath, Marty. She was on to you. And she followed through. Apparently, you don't know a whole helluva lot about phone security. Because she was able to get somebody to crack your phone and dig up almost TWENTY-FIVE-FUCKING-THOUSAND text messages between you and my wife going back over three years! Three years of the two of you planning to fuck around behind Marsha's and my back! Three years of you planning to dupe us and humiliate us! Three years of treating us like we were the lowest form of life on earth!"

"No, Tyson," Marty objected. "It was...never like that. We never...wanted to hurt...anyone," he struggled.

"Marty's right, Sweetheart," Liza stammered, quietly sobbing. "We would never intentionally hurt or humiliate either of you! That was never what this was about! It was just an attraction we couldn't control!"

I dropped my arms to my side and menacingly approached my wife, still clutching my police baton in a threatening way, a look of absolute hatred and loathing on my face. Liza could see it. She had never seen that look on my face before.....and she was scared.

"First off," I said softly, "don't ever...ever...EVER...call me sweetheart again! Don't call me lover...or honey...or babe...or any other term of affection, for that matter."

Liza just stood there shaking and nodding her head.

"And secondly, you most certainly did have every intention of hurting and humiliating me."

"No, swee -- er, I mean, Tyson, no!"

"Do you have any idea...what it's like to read a text message...where your wife talks about giving her cheating lover...a fucking blow job...and tells her lover...how she plans to kiss her husband...ME...later on that day...without brushing her fucking teeth? So that she still has the taste of her lover's penis and cum on her lips and breath and tongue when she degrades and humiliates her husband later on that day when he comes home from his ridiculously dangerous job of protecting this town and her citizens? Really, Liza? Do you have any idea...how that makes a man feel? To know that his wife has that little respect for him? After twelve years of marriage?"

Liza looked at me in shock and horror. "Tyson...I mean...how..." and then she collapsed on the stairs in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

"Tyson," Marty lisped through his swelling lips and broken teeth. "Come on, man...don't...take it out...on Liza, bro. I'm...the one....you should be...pissed at," he stuttered through the pain.

"Bro? Did you just call me bro? Are you fucking kidding me? Let me paraphrase from a text message you sent Liza earlier today when you talked about how you couldn't wait to fuck Liza in our marital bed so you could claim her pussy as yours. Let me remind you of how you told her that you even wanted to go so far as to fuck her on MY side of the bed so that I would have to sleep in your dried up cum and Liza's cunt juices that very same night! Does that sound very brotherly to you, you fucking asshole???"

Marty just lay there and cowered, looking away from me in his shame. But it was only shame in the fact that he got caught, not the fact that he was fucking his friend's wife in the first place.

"Oh, Tyson," Liza sobbed. "I'm so, so, sorry! I'm so terribly sorry!"

"You know? I can never figure out why it is that people who get caught cheating are so remorseful when they get caught. I can't understand why it is that the idea of getting caught and all the damage it could do to the relationship NEVER crosses their mind while they're getting their fucking rocks off!"

"Wh...what...are you...gonna do...Ty?" Marty stammered, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding face.

I paced the room for a bit, trying to get my thoughts together.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen, Marty," I said, menacingly. "I've been trying to do the math in my head on this, know what I mean? I'm thinking that you've made three previous trips to Red River Falls for the sole purpose of 'conducting business' and fucking my wife. So that's three years and three business trips for a total of nine days, sound about right?"

Marty nodded, looking worried and wondering where I was going with this.

"So," I continued, "you've been here for nine days and hooked up with my wife each day that you were here. Reading over the twenty-five-thousand-plus text messages, I'm going to guesstimate a bit here and assume that you fucked her at least two, maybe three times each day that you were here. After all, you only get here once a year so you're probably going to make the most of it, right? According to your text messages you even got Viagra so you could make sure that you made the most of it! So, that's three days times three fucks per day, which is nine fucks per annual visit, times three previous visits so far."

I walked slowly towards Marty. "So, the way I see it," I said as sinister as I could, "I owe you twenty-seven bloody ass kickings for fucking my wife twenty-seven times!"

"No, Ty," he said, shaking his head vigorously. "It...wasn't that many...I swear...to God!"

"Oh, I'm sure it was at least that many, Marty! Again, don't forget that I have all of your text messages!"

"Fine," Marty said, trying to be defiant. "If you think...kicking my ass... will make up for it...then...you've got me here. Just...finish...what you...started! Just...get it...over with!"

"Oh, you mean, you want me to just beat you within an inch of your worthless, fucking life right here and right now? All in one shot?"

"Yes! I'm never...coming back here...anyway!"

"It really doesn't matter whether you come back here or not, Marty. I owe you and I owe you BIG TIME! I am going to get my pound of flesh from you, one way or the other. As a matter-of-fact, twenty-seven ass kickings will probably take a long time. Just to be generous, I'll lower the amount to just two per day for a total of eighteen. That's only because I'm a nice guy, Marty!"

Marty just looked away from me in despair and shame. Gone was the flamboyant business man who was full of brio and bravado just a short while ago as he was about to plunge his cock into the married pussy of the wife of his so-called friend.

"Another thing, Marty," I said coldly, "you're never going to know when I'm going to show up and kick your ass. I didn't know anything about you showing up in Red River Falls to fuck my wife. So you're never going to know when I might show up in whatever town you happen to be in to beat your fucking ass!"

That got his attention. Marty just looked at me with shock on his face and I could see him gulp in fear.

"You're never gonna know when, you're never gonna know where, you're never gonna know how. But I will find you, Marty. Make no mistake about it. I will find you and I will beat the shit out of you. And I'm going to do this eighteen times. And, if you want to try and fix things with Marsha and your kids, you're going to just suck it up and take it like a man. Don't worry, though. I'm not going to cripple you. You still have a family to provide for. But make no mistake; you will get hurt and you will get the message. Understand?"

Marty just sat there and nodded.

"Now get your bloody, worthless, cheating ass out of my house! And I should warn you, Marty, if I find out in any way, shape or form that you took this beating out on Marsha, I will come find you and I will kill you, Marty. I will bury your body with a shovel and I will bury the fucking shovel! And the only things that will even care that you're gone are the worms that will feast upon your miserable, rotting corpse! Do I make myself clear?"

"What...is there...to stop me...from going to the cops...and telling them...what you did to me...Tyson?"

"I can only say that would be a grave mistake, Marty. And I do mean grave! I happen to be a police officer and most cops I know don't take kindly to the men who cheat with the wives of police officers. Those assholes rank right up there with the fucking douche bags who cheat with the wives of military men who are overseas stuck in the shit fighting for our freedom. I can only say that that would end very badly for you, Marty!"

Marty just looked at me. Then he cast one more glance towards Liza as she sat, still petrified and crying softly, on the stairs. Then he opened the front door, leaving a bloody hand print on the knob and hobbled his way to his Lexus. A couple minutes later, the engine came to life and he drove off. It wouldn't be the last time I'd see him, however.

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