Dodging a Bullet

This is a story of fiction. All relevant characters are 18+. Enjoy.

*********

February 10th.

4 days.

4 fucking days until I was going to make 18 months with Rachel, permanent. Little did I know that a series of events and one thing she "conveniently" never told me, would destroy everything.

Sitting in my hotel room, I received a thumb drive from the private investigator I hired 6 weeks earlier. Watching it with gut-wrenching heartache, I learned my fiance was cheating on me. Not with one person. Or two. Rather, three. Now, 20% of the videos were with 2 different men, both 20 years or more older than Rachel. The other 80% were with the 3rd person, probably in his 20's.

The two older men were here bosses at her real estate firm she works for. Clearly rotund in stature, just the site grossed me out. Sitting in my folder on my computer were a stack of text messages, hotel receipts, dinner dates, flight reservations disguised as "business trips or team building exercises" that were brought together based on the relationship she had with the two men. The 3rd, coincidentally, had no paper trail that I had access to. When he suddenly popped up out of nowhere on the radar of my P. I the evening when I'd left on my current business trip, the only thing I knew was, he is black. I also learned over those last 2 plus weeks, he's been her primary.... source. Having never seen him once in all the other previous takes, I was beside myself.

*********

Before I continue, I think you all should know who is telling you this and the back history.

My name is Robert Morris. I am a 40 year-old Sr. systems analyst for a large tech firm here in Maryland. I'm the typical "nerd" everyone stereotypes. Pocket protector, glasses, the un-ironed button up shirts. 5'7 140 lbs. I have brown hair, brown eyes. Never having been married prior, I worked my way up to my current position.

I met Rachel Petrov 32, 18 months ago at a Real Esrate symposium I'd attended with a friend for moral support. She was at a booth, passing out brochures and talking with people. I had just purchased my own 2 bedroom apartment downtown, a few months earlier, so when I saw her, she immediately caught my eye. At a petite 5'3 110 lbs, her figure was eye catching. Most people go gaga over "boobs and butt" and even though her 32C breasts are nice, her best feature bottom line, are her legs.

Not a glamour queen by any stretch, she was more the "Plain Jane" type. Attractive, yet in a confident way. More the school marm type, she was demure in stature and wore glasses with her beautiful brunette hair pulled back in a bun. A pug nose, it fit her face, fantastically.

Walking up to her booth, I proceeded with small talk, joking how, "If this symposium was a few months earlier, I'd have hired her as my realtor." Ultimately, yet surprisingly, I secured her phone number and after having coffee and scones at Starbucks a couple days later, we developed a committed relationship, quickly.

From our first dates, I thought she was honest and open about her life. Listening intently, yet fully interested, she detailed how, at 13, she had been raped and became pregnant. Admitting she immediately aborted the baby at the behest of her mom and stepdad, she said therapy benefitted her greatly.

She was open about her preferences of men she dated and her "body count", not seemingly afraid of transparency. She said she chose to date black men because her own mother had been married to a black man who was her stepdad until he passed when she 12. He was the kind of man who treated her mother like gold. Always patient and kind, he accepted Rachel as his own.

But after choosing the wrong partners, those who were abusive, possessive, two-timers, etc, her decision to start dating white men didn't start off any better. She conceived her daughter, Mila, from a one-night stand she'd had at a friends engagement party.

Rachel relished in the fact, that although she has had many failings in her dating life, she was proud of her accomplishments as a real estate agent. Working for Parker Real Estate, Rachel began as an intern at 23 and had, proudly, gained respect throughout the community as a reputable professional.

As our relationship blossomed, I honestly couldn't believe how I managed to win her heart. I know it wasn't my looks, but I was just happy she had also chosen me. Slowly, she would begin integrating me into her daughters life. We'd go to the park, out on walks, take her to eat ice cream, etc. I found myself eating at her house most nights and then spending 3 nights a week there.

When I asked her to marry me, It was in August. We'd been together a year, and so it was only fitting I bent down on one knee and. on my 40th birthday, ask her for her hand in marriage.

"Rachel," I began in the kitchen of her home, spaghetti sauce on our aprons and a messy counter. "Will you grant me the honor of marrying me?"

Excitedly, she immediately screamed. "YES!! oh my goodness, Robert, Yes!" Taking her hand, I slid the 1.5 karat, diamond-studded, snow drift, oval-cut ring over her finger. "Thank you! Thank you!" She said, hopping up and down in her nylon clad feet. "Mila," Rachel said, bending down to her daughter, "Robert and mommy are getting married!" Later that night we made love in her bed.

***********

Over the course of the next month, things went as one would gather. I'd go to work, she would sell homes. Life was grand. Beginning wedding preparations early, Rachel threw herself fully into it. With assistance from my mother, my sister and my sister-in-law, the girls would meet at Rachel's house, looking over wedding magazines. Searching for venues one Saturday as I was barbequing in her back yard, She and my sister came out back.

"This!" Rachel gleefully stated. "This is were I want our wedding." An overview of the area showed a meadow overlooking a lake. A cabin off to the left, with, what looked like a renovated barn capable of holding reception type events. Putting down the tongs I was using, The girls briefed me on everything.

"It's $10,000," Rachel said, beaming. "They ask for a $2500 deposit with the rest paid 30-days before the event.

No hesitation or pause at the price, I just told them, "If this is what Rachel wants, then book it." A week later, Rachel showed me an email confirming Feb 14th as our wedding date. How fitting right? The day of lovers. Her dream wedding.

Little by little, inquiries about DJ's, Floral arrangements, catering began to take place. Balancing her career and the arduous task of planning our wedding, I didn't notice a subtle change until 6 weeks after my proposal. Harkening everything up to the stress, excitement, and dedication needed to pull a wedding together, albeit helping people purchase and sell homes and raising Mila, I never once had any reason to question these changes. All in all, we were in about $22,000 for 100 guests.

I offered to help with planning, but one night, as we were eating dinner, I noticed the exhaustion on her face. "Rach," I'd begin, concern in my voice. "Look, delegate more of the tasks to my mom, Beth, or Cindy. You've been going full steam." Brushing it off, she'd assure me everything was alright.

The week after Halloween is when more changes began to crop up. That Monday, I'd received a call from Rachel from her office having to cancel our holiday plans. Claiming she'd forgot to alert me that she'd made plans a month ago to go to Baltimore to "spend it with a friend."

"You told me you had a business trip this week Robert," reminding me of the revelation a few weeks prior. "I didn't think you'd be in town so I had accepted an invite for Mila and I." When it was cancelled a week later, I reluctantly understood and let it go. Spending a week without her wasn't what I'd had in the cards, but with all the stress and anxiety she was under, I wished her well.

Into October plans we'd make, suddenly were cancelled. Dinner dates, weekend getaways planned for months, cancelled. Each time she'd go, myself, my mother or my sisters would stay with Mila.

"Tom and Mike, (Perkins and Johnson, owner and CEO of Parker real estate) are doing our yearly evaluations," Rachel exhaustively claimed one night. (Both men were in their 60's I'd learned at one of the company parties). "There are 5 of us in the mix, and so I'm letting you know that I'll be away this weekend." Feeling blindsided, Rachel continued. "I'm sorry honey," she claimed, feigning sorrow, "We all learned of this yesterday. The have 2 senior agent promotions and this is important."

"But why do you have to go to Cincinnati for the weekend?" I genuinely asked.

"Tom said they take pride in all their team members and want to show their appreciation as they reward all employees for their... hard work," Rachel answered, her eyes not matching mine. "It's important to me Robert. I'm sorry that it was dropped on us now. But I've waited for this opportunity for 9 years."

As the distance began to grow, I was beginning to be affected by it. That Monday they returned from the trip, Rachel was different. Exhaustion on her face, she met me at her door. "I'm now Sr. Agent of Perkins Real Estate," she said, although it sounded inauthentic. Celebrating by making her her favorite dish, Portabelo mushrooms and steak, the evening was subdued.

Every day, she'd text me, saying that her promotion means longer hours, so we'll have to, "curtail our plans until I am comfortable in my role". Canceling evening plans for, "evening house showings or finalizing closing on homes", the excuses she gave, mounted. Evening during the day, her schedule was all full of showings and related things.

Having delegated certain tasks related to our wedding to my female family members, it was quite the trial to see Rachel. One morning, after speaking to her, she informed me she had to stay and "man" the office as all of the realtors had a workshop downtown.

"It's just going to be Jean and myself," Rachel stated, meaning her and the receptionist. After getting off the phone, I was thinking. As our divide widened, and her mind was everywhere but our relationship, I made the decision to stop by her agency.

************

About noon, I arrived at the agency. Lunch from Panera Bread in one hand, and a bouquet of roses in the other, I pulled up to her building. Sure enough, the lot was empty, save a few vehicles. Walking in, I saw Jean at her desk.

"Oh, hi Robert," she stated, looking up from her screen.

"Hey, Rachel told me everyone had a workshop, so I brought her lunch."

"Oh, how nice," the elderly woman said. "Let me dial Mr. Parker's office. They were in a meeting."

She had said it was just going to be Jean and her running things, I was kind of surprised the CEO would be here, being it he had to coordinate the proceedings downtown.

Dialing Mr. Parkers' office, her face contorted. "Hmm," she said, ending her attempt. Pressing the numbers again, her posture improved. "Mr Parker. Ms. Petrov's fiance is here to see her." After a brief pause, she ended the call, "Yes sir, I'll let him know."

10 minutes later, Jean's phone buzzed. "Yes, Ms. Petrov?" she joyfully answered. "Alright. I shall," she replied, once again hanging up her phone.

As I went to the 2nd floor, the office was empty. Every office was empty, each door closed. At the far end, two separate doors were open. Reaching Rachel's office, I saw her sitting at her desk. Going in, I showed my hands.

"Thought I'd surprise you," I said, putting the food and flowers on her desk.

"Umm, what.. what a sur.. surprise," she softly said faintly smiling my way. Not meeting my eyes, I sat down in the chair. Locking in on her face, she looked wornout.

"Did I interrupt your meeting?" I began, with a hint of worry.

"Oh, umm, no," she started. "We just, just finished our meeting. Stupid economic logistics," She said, her voice, hoarse.

Just then, a voice appeared from her door. Turning my head, we saw Tom Parker.

"Just wanted to thank you for.. figuring things out," Tom said.

Her eyes, widening, I saw slight panic on her face. "Oh, yea.. yea.. sure," She said. "Hope everything was.. acceptable," her eyes not daring to reach mine. With a sly smirk, the 62 yr old man adjusted his tie, then disappeared from the door. 45 minutes later, a few agents returned, entering their offices.

"I'd better go," I said, standing up from the chair.

"Ok," Rachel said," looking a little more relaxed. "Thank you for the lunch and beautiful flowers."

As I grabbed my jacket, she stopped me. "Robert, You are my world," she began. "I love you." Stirring in her chair, she added, "I don't deserve a man like you. You're so good to me and Mila."

Walking around her desk to hug her, we embraced. Accepting me fully, she didn't release. Feeling her body shaking ever so slightly, I started to release my embrace. As I stepped back, my foot went forward kicking her wastebacket. Looking down, on the floor were a few papers, a coffee cup, and a pair of her pantyhose, with runs in them.

"Oh goodness!" she squeaked, hurrying to pick up the mess. After replacing everything back in the basket, she stood. "There!" she said, flashing a tired smile. Adjusting her leopard print skirt, she sat down at her desk.

"I need to finish up a few things. I'll call you when I'm through here."

*************

The next Friday, I was sitting in my apartment watching baseball when I received a text from my friend. Opening his message, a video and a caption appeared.

"Robert, Hey sorry to interfere, but isn't this your fiancee?" My colleague, Margaret had asked.

Playing the video, it showed Rachel in a very upscale restaurant wearing a bright red ballroom type gown, red choker on her neck, red elbow length gloves, a feathery type hat, red 4" inch high heels and sun beige colored pantyhose. Her brunette hair up in a bun, showcased her neck. Sitting with her on each side, were her much older bosses, Tom Parker and Mike Johnson. Dressed in nice suits and watches probably worth more than my home, I watched as Rachel looked uneasy. A forced smile on her face, she sat intently between them. Seeing her left hand on top of Tom's hand, her engagement ring shone in the dimly lit dining hall. Her red finger nails were seductively raking the top of his hand. On the other side, Mike Johnson's hand was sat on her thigh, dress partially exposing her nylon clad leg, as the other two men yucked it up. You then see them all get up. Putting her hands through each of the men's arms, they walked out of the establishment.

After it ended, I was beside myself. "She said Mila wasn't feeling well and that they were just going to stay home," I said outloud, to no one in particular. "There has to be a good explanation, I said.

*********

The next morning, the only time together Rachel hadn't cancelled, I walked into her house. As I called out for her, I ultimately heard the shower upstairs. Making my way upstairs, I saw Mila's door closed. Walking into Rachel's room, her bed was unmade. On the side I usually sleep in when I stay over, a red ballroom dress lay, the one I saw in the video. Examining it closer, I noticed several stains that impregnated the redness on her dress. Not one or two, rather multiple ones.

A soiled pair of pantyhose lie next to the dress with a hole in the gusset area was also visible with long runs down the inner legs and several stains.

2 minutes later, as I stood at the window overlooking the main street, she walked out of the bathroom. Looking to my left we met eyes. Seeing me, she froze. Quickly grabbing her robe, she turned abruptly threw it over her body.

"When.. when did you get here," she tiredly, but surprisingly, asked.

"About 15 minutes ago," I replied.

Tying her robe taut, I swore I noticed bruising on her breasts and black and blue between her inner thighs. Maybe not seeing correctly, I didn't press.

"Oh, yeah. I was taking a shower," she muttered, as fatigue coated her look.

"So," I said, changing the subject. " How is Mila feeling?"

The question I asked, seemingly caught her off guard. "Umm she's ok. She finally fell asleep after a nice bath," unsure of her words.

"Look, I came over because I actually need to take a raincheck for breakfast. I have a project due Monday," I quipped, catching her in the lie. Not wanting to question it yet, I had to take a break and think about what is going on with Rachel.

******

Saturday and Sunday I avoided her calls. Sporadically returning texts about needing to go to the tailor and try on her wedding dress, I told her to pay the balance on the credit card. After receiving my permission, my mom called me to tell me that she, and my sister Beth would accompany. Before I ended the call, I asked my mom to report to me if she notices her acting strange.

Later that day, my mom called to say they went to David's Bridal, then had an early dinner before parting ways. Saying how she's fallen for Mila, I was wearily concerned, but that all-in-all, Rachel was joyfully excited.

Thanksgiving came and went with no issues. Rachel and Mila enjoyed time with my family. As the star of the show, Rachel's daughter made everyone laugh. Watching my fiance on the other side, it looked like she was in deep-think mode.

The second week of December on a Monday, I hadn't been to Rachel's house in 2 weeks. Using the excuse of work assignments, it seemingly worked. When Rachel asked if I was coming over that night, I'd politely declined saying I was going to see my family, but that I'd see her tomorrow.

At 8:30pm, I had a nagging feeling pressing me. Picking up my keys I drove over to Rachel's house. Pulling up to her house, I saw a burgundy Tesla parked down the street that I'd never seen before, and her Outback in the driveway. Not recognizing that vehicle, I wasn't able to clarify just who's vehicle that was. Not seeing lights on downstairs, I got out of my car. As I walked in between the cars and garage, I heard faint sounds from above. Seeing a faint light behind the drapes, I figured Rachel was there.

"Unh.. Unh.. Unh.. Unh" Stopping in my tracks, I tried focusing on what I thought I was hearing. Aside from the continuous submissive moans, a continuous thumping meshed with the moaning. The seductiveness of her voice caught me off guard. "Oh baby, yes," I heard, realizing the window was cracked open.

Once I regained my bearings, I turned and headed back to my car, unsure of how to navigate this problem. The next morning, I hired a private investigator.

************

The next day I called off work. Still reeling from what I heard, I needed space. That evening, I went over to Rachel's house. When I walked in, she was wearing a simple floral print dress and tan pantyhose. Seeing her high heels just inside the living room, I studied her.

"Why?... Is she cheating? I thought we had love, desire." Needing absolute evidence, I tried to act normal. Helping her in the kitchen, I decided to tell her of my pending 2 week business trip.

"I'll be in Minneapolis for two weeks in mid January," I started. "We have conferences and some assignments."

With a look on her face I could only describe as relief, her tired visage forced a smile. "Well as long as we're together for Christmas, then I guess it will be ok," she said, pecking my cheek.

*********

As the days progressed, I didn't show my hand. Telling her of the craziness before Christmas, I might not come by a lot. The Monday before Christmas, I received a zoom call from the P. I.

"She's been relatively quiet," he said. "Save for the first two days after you hired me, I thought maybe You wasted your money."

Feeling, I don't know, a brief set of relief that maybe, just maybe, whoever she was seeing behind my back, was over.

"But," he continued, pulling me back in, "There's... another issue."

"Another issue?" I asked, questioningly.

Showing 2 photos to me, I studied them. "Ok? She's at the airport. I don't understand the correlation."

"Well, I've seen her several times in her car talking on her cell," he said. "Records show she wasn't talking to anyone dealing with her real estate company. The only calls I see on your lines were to you. Our issue is she has a burner phone. I need you to try and locate it."

Running my hands through my hair, he continued before I could speak. " Looking at the phone records and their subsequent activities, there have not been any attempts to contact her by the original numbers in 6 days."

"How many partners do you think she has?" I asked, pointedly.

"I'm gathering evidence for you Mr. Morris. I don't like to do sloppy work. I'd been planned to wrap up my findings until... this," showing the unexpected additions, "unknowingly showed up."

"I understand," I stated, exasperated. Ending the call, I had to formulate a plan.

*********

That evening, I was at Rachel's. Originally taken aback at my being there as I'd mentioned the day before I had work duties, I sat there on the couch tossing a little ball between Mila and me. Taking my P. I's advice, I continued playing the good fiance.

About 7:15, we were eating dinner. Mila had mac'n cheese all over her face while Rachel and I quietly ate our linguine in clam sauce in quiet. Suddenly, we hear a buzzing. Thinking Rachel didn't hear it, I ignored it. Almost immediately, the buzzing commenced. Putting down her fork, she retrieved her purse.

"I'll be right back," she said, "It's the agency." A concerned look appearing. Disappearing into the guest bedroom, she closed the door.

5 minutes later, as Mila was focused on her food, I got up from my chair. Quietly going to the guest room, I stopped at the door. What I heard, brought unnerving interest.

Through the door, Rachel's voice was quiet, sounding calm, yet carefully reserved, she was speaking to someone.

"Look, my fiance is already suspicious, Cameron," I heard her worriedly say. "I've had to cut off all contact with my bosses. Now you're contacting me." Listening intently, I quickly glanced back at Mila. Focused on her food, I went back to the detail at hand.

"Honey, I know. Robert doesn't know about you. He believes I only have one child. It's not like you can just show up at my door, ok?"

After a few minutes, I realized she was ending her call. "I enjoyed our time alone these past few days. Do you know how difficult it is trying to maintain my engagement and plan my wedding while I have to use a burner phone to talk to you? Hearing silence for a second, She finished. "Yes, I'll wear the nylons you like, Cameron. I'll leave the office by noon. I'll use Jen's car just in case. Just be gentler on me. I love you. God I've missed you."

Scurrying back to the table, Rachel came out. "Oh my goodness Robert," she sighed. "How difficult is it to confirm funds for a client?" The forced smirk on her face was telling.

Lying in bed, I was slowly starting to realize our relationship might be over. Awaiting my private investigator's full finding's I didn't show my hand.

****

With our wedding still on for February 14, I was fighting the urge to confront Rachel but reluctantly heeded my PI's advice. On January 30th, I boarded a flight for a 2 week business I told her I had no way of avoiding. My presence was mandatory as I was leading this project from its' inception.

"Mila and me will be fine," She said before I left. "Your mom, the girls and I will handle the rest of whats needed for the wedding," she voiced, joy on her face.

Kissing me, she said, "I can't wait to be Mrs. Robert Benson. Come home safely to me."

*********

The next few days were a blur. Meetings kept my mind busy. When I'd call Rachel, our talks seemed distant. When I'd tell her snippets about the goings on, the answers were also short.

"Oh that's nice." Or, "Mhm!"

Always using the excuse of needing to tend to Mila, I was again, assuming the worst. The night I'd heard her moaning upstairs, hurt me. Was she with someone? Was she using toys? I honestly didn't know. The restaurant she was at with her bosses. Was that a mirage? I didn't have any concrete evidence as of yet, so I tried to keep my wits about me. What was she hiding from me? The lies. Was it nerves? Was it stress? Was I not doing enough? My answer came on Monday, the week of my wedding. A trove of emails from my PI.

The life I'd imagined, planned for, built with Rachel was on life support. Not wanting to believe what I was seeing, I looked over everything.

The photos and videos attached were damning. For the last 4 months, in order of dates were pictures of Rachel and the owner of the agency she works for, Tom Perkins walking out of the building holding hands. This 62 year old man, holding my 32 year old fiance's hand like the were a couple. A weary smile on her face, she seemed.... content. Tom was divorced I'd learned. Every picture, from restaurants, his penthouse, even from hotels painted a grim picture.

Opening the next folder, Mike Johnson, the CEO, running the day-to-day, was also seen separately with her. Mostly from his home, a lake could be seen in the background, sitting on the porch a few mornings clothed in robes, coffee mugs in their hands. At 61, I learned he was married, with 6 grandkids.

Everything lined up. Every "team building" trip, every conference, every time Rachel cancelled, she was with these 2 men, separately. The weekend she was promoted to Senior agent, it showed a time stamped picture of Tom and Rachel standing outside of his penthouse in an embrace. Those pictures had stopped on January 13th.

Opening the 3rd file of pictures, they began on January 11th. Her at the airport, her hugging a young African-American looking male, Mila in her stroller. Picture after picture of them holding hands, smiling. Pictures beginning the evening I'd left on my current trip. Them getting out of her Outback. Them walking into the house. The light going on in her bedroom.

Next, I'd opened a thumb drive. There'd been no video of her and Tom, but there were 3 taken on 3 different evenings while at the lakefront home of Mike Johnson. Playing them was the same story. Moans, grunt, bedsprings, thumping sounds. Pressing play made my stomach drop.

"Unh! Unh! Unh! Oh yes, Michael," The voice of my fiance easily discernible. The sounds of clear sex was undeniable. All 3 of those days, same story. Unable to see inside, my P. I could only get the audio.

The second thumb drive, showed, "Unknown person" Again, solely just sounds, but night after night, clear sounds of intimacy in her home, her bedroom. But the person in these videos was the black male. Having enough except visual footage, I knew our relationship was irreparably damaged.

After watching, the P. I. stated that ever since Jan 13, she has no other meetings with the other 2, no phone contact, no texts. But since the day I left on my trip, this black male has been there every moment of every day. My P. I. informed me most evenings, a sitter would come by, then leave after they got home. Almost instantly, after, the sounds of animalistic intimacy could be easily heard in her bedroom. The grunting, the moans, the headboard banging against the wall, even the annoying sounds of bedsprings singing a melodic tune, was unmistakable.

*********

Informing my team I needed to go home to help finalize my wedding preparations, I was greeted warmly with congratulations and kind sentiments. But sitting on the airplane, I was naively hoping this was all a misunderstanding, a joke, whatever. But I had come to the realization it wasn't a joke.

Once I landed at 8 pm the next night, the Wednesday of our wedding, I called Rachel. Straight to Voicemail. Texted her. No response. Even after getting to my car, I called her again. Straight to voicemail.

Since we hadn't lived together and were waiting to make it official after our wedding, I still drove to her house. Pulling into her driveway, my attention immediately was drawn to the window above her garage. There, I saw it. Two legs, pointing up in the dimly lit bedroom. Flailing wildly, it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand what that meant.

I could clearly make out the glossiness of the suntan colored pantyhose prevalent on her legs. Her white, close-toed high heels were dangling, dangerously off of her feet. In between her legs was the black males body. Not being able to see Rachel's or this guys faces through the open drapery, I did clearly see her tiny hands, red finger nails and, what looked to be, white sequined gloves on her hands, fingers protruding out. Her hands were resting on his shoulders telling me they were in the missionary position. In my car, I sat white white knuckled with my hands on my steering, watching my fiance's legs uncontrollably thrash around in the air.

Honestly, at that moment, I was unsure of what to do. Barge in and make a ruckus? Drive away and never look back? Looking back up at the window, the franticness of the image before me, told me they weren't.. making love. Rather he was fucking my 32-year old fiance. Up, down, up, down, his body would appear and disappear.

Knowing she had her 3-year old daughter in the house, I knew I wasn't going to make a ruckus. I'd grown comfortable with her daughter, Mila, over these last 2 years. But the one thing I had to know now, was WHO she was with. Against my better judgment, I stepped out of my car. Almost instantly, the faint sounds of intimacy could be meted out.

The squeaking of bed springs, the intense thumping of a headboard, the cries of ecstasy occurring behind those walls was just the beginning. The fact the woman I'd fallen in love with was unfaithful, not with 1, but 3 different males, 2 that I have irrefutable proof of, hurt to no end.

Not sure of how to confront this, I knew one thing. I needed to know who this "sudden" addition to her harem was. I knew, personally, Tom and Michael from her real estate job. But this? This unknown person who has been in Rachel's house since the day I went on my trip, seemingly fucking her like a man on a mission. I was determined to find out. Opening the door, it was immediate.

"Yes! Cameron, oh baby!," I heard, the moment I walked in. Seeing her purse on the ground, her shawl at the base of the stairs, and items of this male person's clothing strewn on the stairwell, I knew everything I needed to know.

"Fuck yes!" Echoed from the bedroom, the sounds of skin slapping intensely. Frozen, I was devastated.

"Unh! Unh! Ung! Unh!" The seductiveness in her moans painted me an unreal picture. Her incessant moaning, the undeniable truth in her desire.

"Don.. Don't.. st.. stop.. Swee.. Sweetheart!" She demanded.

Beginning my trek up the flight of stairs, I was prepared for the worst. Did I know this man? Why now? I'd never heard of this person, that is until the P. I. unexpectedly learned of his existence while intensely looking into the shenanigans, since confirmed with her elderly boss.

Halfway up the stairs, I could already see her bedroom. First door on the right, partially open, but the angle gives you a good view into it. From the wall length mirror where I stood, I fixed my eyes on the bed.

What I saw, now, destroyed me. On the center of the bed, Rachel's face couidnt be fully seen. Head on the pillow, her wedding veil sat. Seeing her legs pointing up to the ceiling, the white pumps on her feet and the glossy suntan colored pantyhose on her legs were evident. Aside from the light on in the foyer, her bedroom was illuminated. Not fully, but I knew the little light beside her bed was on.

As I stood there, the intensity of the black guy between her legs was intense. Looking to be near 300lbs. Just the sheer aggression was reason the bed was literally bouncing of of the floor. Fully on her, I saw her little hands holding him from underneath. Her red finger nails were digging into his shoulders. Seeing only his back and the fact he was on top of her, seeing his hips slamming down into her was frightening.

Noticing white fabric draped over the edge of the bed, I realized she had on her wedding dress. Pushed over her waist, I had glimpses of her body, everytime his body came up off her. The worst part, the white foamy glaze that appeared on the seemingly large, unsheathed organ leaving my fiances vaginal cavity.

At a loss, the action was mind boggling. Sure Rachel's 32, but this man is younger, yet her uncontrollable panting was telling.

"Fu.. fuck me," she breathlessly encouraged, as I could catch a partial glimpse of her face looking up at him.

Seeing Mila's door closed, I was genuinely grateful she was not present. But what ultimately shattered any semblance of sanity I still believed I had, came to a horrifying screech just a minute later.

Hearing the festivities speed up, the bed was, now slamming into the wall, rattling windows. Rachel's moaning was now, non-stop and the grunts were also continuous.

"Cam.. Cameron.. oh God ye.. yes!" She was mewling, "I've. I've.. miss.. missed.. you.. so mu.. much," the incompetence in her words, present.

Then, I heard it. "Fuck mom.. I'm. cumming.!"

When I heard the word 'mom' I was blown away. Saying I was shocked, horrified, was an understatement.

As the revelation was made a loud roar immediately followed, "Ahhhhhhfffucckk!" Suddenly, the chaotic sounds lessened. Just the sounds of relief from him, the bedsprings moderately humming, and the headboard thumping slowly fading was soon replaced by Rachel's voice. "Flood mama, Cameron. Give her all that cum."

Seeing her left hand, bearing the engagement ring I'd given her a few months earlier running through his afro, I was beside myself.

Seeing and hearing WAYY more than enough, I wasn't going to confront them. Not with her daughter down the hall. I loved that young child. I couldn't add anymore chaos to what she might be hearing from behind her closed bedroom door. So I began to make my way back down the stairs.

"God, I've missed you," I heard Rachel's voice, sounding exhausted. Finally silence ensued and the movement I heard signalled the end.

"Oh no!" I heard "My fiance has tried calling. I need you to get off, Sweetheart," Rachels' voice, slightly panicked.

"Does he know about me?" I heard, his baritone voice, pronounced.

"No. I never told him I had another child other than Mila," Rachel responded. "Robert would never understand."

Shocked at that admission, the final stake in my heart was inflicted. Silently, I made my way out of the house and stumbled to my car. Extricating myself from the premises, I carefully navigated my vehicle, unseen.

**********

A few blocks a way, I pulled my car into a vacant lot. Putting it into "park" I just sat there, stunned. "What in hell did I just learn," I said outloud.

Replaying the events, I just realized something. This Cameron guy said.. MOM..

Mom.. Not Rachel. Not Ms. Petrov... MOM.

As my mind was trying to recalibrate, I slowly tried piecing everything together. What she admitted to me when we first began our relationship. How she always chose black guys, how she'd been raped at 13. Everything. Then it dawned on me. Putting 2 and 2 together, he has to be 18 years old. Since she's 32, it makes perfect sense.

The nagging question was, "Why?" Why didn't she mention him? She has 2 children and she's incestuously involved with him."

The way it all unfolded had me throwing up outside my open car door. Unsure of my next steps, and Rachel assuming I was still in Minneapolis, I went to my apartment.

********

The next day I knew she would be at work. Watching all 3 leave, I needed to see when this began. My P. I's investigation, although completed, lacked a pattern. Since he had zero access to her laptop and all, I set out seeking answers. Having spoken to her on the phone earlier, I played the unaware fiance. Knowing I had a few hours since she was showing homes, I entered her home.

Placing a little video pin on her table at the entrance of her home, and one on her dresser, I hoped my own detective work would yield answers. Finding one of her many laptops, it was easy enough to look into. Never needing passwords since it was in her own home, finding more evidence was easy.

Troves and troves of emails, dating back to September, told a sordid tale of betrayal. First, the communiques with Tom Perkins and Mike Johnson, respectively, were professional. From innocent work stuff, soon morphed into hotel and flight reservations, restaurant reservation, became an array of several rendezvous.

"Please, Tom," one of the earliest email said. "I'm engaged to Robert. I can't have him finding out. Besides, you're 30 years older than me."

"As long as you keep up with I tell you to say, he'll never know," Tom arrogantly wrote.

Email after email, laying out a pattern of faithlessness, went on for months. Her obvious affairs with the main bosses at her firm was one of reluctance.

One damning email from Mike Johnson, stated plainly. "You will be in my bed, every Tuesday evening with your legs spread, or you're career in real estate ends."

Now understanding why she always needed me to stay with Mila on Tuesdays, because of "closings", shed light on the sordid situation.

The last email I saw, was dated January 13th to both or her bosses. It simply stated that, "We need to cool it down for a while. My son, who I haven't heard from since he was 6, suddenly contacted me. He will be taking up most of my time. Please. I ask you to be patient. Robert knows nothing about all of us. I get married in a few weeks. I swear, I never expected my son, Cameron to reach out to me. Blow jobs in your offices will have to suffice until Cameron leaves. Roberts going away on the 27th, and so I understand the plans we had, but I need to catch up with Cameron. When Robert gets home on Feb 12, Cameron will, hopefully, be gone."

Now piecing together the dead-end the PI ran into, made sense. She wasn't ending her understanding with her bosses, she was trying to weather a storm she hadn't foreseen.

In her banking app, I found a 627$ charge on January 6th to Delta Airlines. I saw emails from Cameron and her. Simply stating, "Mom, I'm 18 now, I want to see you," Followed by a myriad of back and forths. "Cameron, it's not a good idea. My fiance doesn't know you exist. I can't just explain an 18 year old showing up here claiming me as his mother. He wouldn't understand."

The deception and secrecy killed me. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw lying on her nightstand was her burner phone. Retrieving it, the flood gates open. Explicit messages were part and parcel between Tom and Rachel, as well as Mike and Rachel. The lengths they went to defile her under my nose, was striking. Pictures of them in hotel rooms, cuddling, kissing. In sexually explicit poses on beds. In Toms penthouse. Mike's lakehouse. It was immense.

The first text thread with Cameron started, innocently enough on December 30th. Claiming it was "mistaken identity" by Rachel, I never had suspicion. About January 4, the texts became explicit.

"I ain't gonna come there for a reunion mom," it stated. "You abandoned me. You now owe me. I'm fuckin' you the whole time I'm there."

From charges at clothing stores, to babysitting for Mila, to hotel rooms, restaurants, I was floored by how naive and blind I was to not act on all of the warning signs.

Deciding to download everything, I meticulously did so. When finished, I had over 4 months worth of her infidelity and her incestuous relationship with her son.

Leaving, I had one other matter to handle. The wedding that wont be happening.

*********

Knowing I would not be able to obtain refunds on the venue, catering and the like, I called my mom and sister saying the wedding was off. Giving them a very diluted version, I made them agree they would not confront Rachel.

One by one, I cancelled everything, explaining my story with vague details. While others had a zero refund policy within 30 days, a few refunded portions of my funds. Realizing the bullet I'd dodged, I was glad I learned everything before the wedding. Rachel had delegated everything to my mom so she had no idea I just upended our wedding.

Deciding Friday was my D'Day, I was going to confront Rachel.

**********

Friday evening came and I was standing just inside Rachel's house. Parking my car down the street, I had walked over. Now, 10pm, any discreetness was non existent.

"Cam.. Cameron!" Rachel moaned. "Fuck your.. your moth.. mother!" Having already removed the camera in her bedroom the day before, full of damning evidence, I was going to remove the one 2 feet from me as I stood in her entryway.

"Fuckkkk yessss!" she moaned. "Fuck.. it.. Hard.. harder.. Sweet.. sweetheart." The squelching sounds of their mixed juices was sickening.

"Unh! Ahh! Unh! Ahh!" The trading of grunts between the mother and son echoed in the suburban home. Here for an hour already, the festivities played out. Having moved a kitchen table chair just to the right of the stairwell, I sat in it. Not being able to see me until fully down the stairwell, I waited. The pregnancy test she'd left on the kitchen counter, the big red + sign all but confirmed the climax of her debauchery, rested on my leg.

"Yes!! Yes!! Yes!! Oh Cameron! Yes!" She cried.

"I'm 'bout to cum!" he announced signalling the end to this session. "Ahhhhhhhh," soon followed.

"Oh Cameron.. oh baby," I'd hear Rachel submissely stated, "Empty every drop deep into me."

Soon, there was an eerie calm after the chaos. Hearing movement upstairs, I heard the bedroom doors hinges alert me. At the top of the stairs, I heard Rachel say, "I just found out I'm pregnant, Cameron. So when we see each other in the future, you need to be easier on me."

"As long as I'm fuckin' you mom, We good," he admitted.

"I need to return Roberts texts about our rehearsal dinner tomorrow and then I'll make us a snack, Ok?"

"A'ight, Imma just watch yo' TV then, right quick," Cameron noted.

Hearing the slow methodical clicking of Rachel's heels coming down the stairs, mixed in with giggling and laughs, the look on my fiance's face when she turned toward the kitchen was worth the price of admission.

When they both turned the corner and saw me sitting there, Rachel's eyes widened. Her face draining of color, turned a pale white.

"Rob.. Robert honey. What are you doing here?!" Her demeanor, filled with horror.

"How about you tell me," I dryly stated. Tossing a large folder at her feet.

"I.. I.. I.. can explain," She stammered.

Standing before me, Cameron was fully naked. A frothy, shiny substance on his member hanging, limp in front of him.

Rachel, In black high heels, tan pantyhose with a large hole in the gusset of her nylons and the obvious semen oozing down her inner thighs into her hosiery, was in shock.

Her glasses on her face, hair a matted mess and her naked, bruised breasts, told me everything.

Waving my hand before her I quietly said, "Stop. I think you've explained enough."

Seeing her legs wanting to give out, I asked her the obvious question. "You never mentioned to me you had another child," posturing toward Cameron. "Rather, if I remember correctly, you had said you ended your pregnancy because of the rape you endured."

Seeing her and her son move over to the couch, Rachel sat. With a bravado I didn't know I had, I stuck my hand out to Cameron. "I'm Robert. The man your mom was suppose to marry in 4 days. I... hear your name must be Cameron." Not taking my hand I lowered it.

Burying her hands in her face the water works began. "I'm so sorry! OMG!" she uncontrollably sobbed. "I never meant for you to find out," she wailed, through her angst.

No apology. No taking responsibility. No remorse. She was sorry she got caught.

Not saying a word, I let her continue her attempt at excuses.

"I.. I.. didn't expect him to contact me," she said in a low voice.

"Yet for the past 2 plus weeks every single night, he's been intimate with you, Rachel."

Understanding the brevity of her actions, she tried interjecting. "Stop," I said, done with her patheticness. Reaching back at the chair, I took the pregnancy test in my hand. "Is it Tom's? Or Mike's? Or, God forbid, mine?"

Again, the look on her face was priceless.

"You know?" She quietly said, now looking to the floor.

"Damn mom!" Cameron's voice chimed in. "You a hoe? You fuckin' how many dudes?"

Standing, his large penis dangling in front of him, he started to leave the room. "I'll be up in yo' bedroom when he leaves."

Once he left, I asked her a couple questions.

"Why?" The tone in my voice, calm.

"I.. I," she began. "I didn't want to," she ashamedly said.

"But you did," I pointed out. My final question ended us. permanently.

"Did you even love me?" I said, beginning to walk to the door.

"Robert, I.. I..," the subdued volume in her voice told me everything I needed to know.

"Goodbye Rachel," I said. "I hope it was all worth it."

Closing the door behind me, I just stood. Letting the cold, night air hit my face, I was in utter disbelief.

4 days. 4 fucking days until I almost made the biggest mistake of my life. 2 days before the wedding, I officially ended it.

As I starter walking away, the familiar sounds of the bedsprings starting up again could be heard clearly.

**********

***************Epilogue***************

3 weeks after I ended my relationship with Rachel, I'd heard through the grapevine that Rachel's home was up for sale. Learning that she resigned her position at the real estate agency, I found out why.

One of her fellow agents, Marcia, well her husband and I had become friends through golf and he told me that another employer overheard Rachel in Tom's office telling Tom and Mike, that one of them is the father of the babies she was now carrying. Yes.. babies. Learning she was pregnant, at 32, with twins, she was determined to establish paternity.

When neither of them wanted any part of it, they had told her the ONLY reason she was in the job title she was because of her "amazing pussy." Plus the fact that Tom was married with grandchildren of his own and Mike was widowed with grandchildren of his own, the publicity of such revelations they wanted no part of.

"It was fun while it lasted," They both remarked. "You made two old men quite happy with your... skills. Those legs were also a huge plus."

Feeling the utter shame and newfound cold shoulders from her other colleagues, she resigned, effective immediately.

Meanwhile, word has it that "the black guy" who has been staying with her over the past month is moving with her once she sells.

A year after, I learned she had confirmed Tom as the father of her twins and that when confronted at the family home, not the townhouse he used periodically with Rachel, his wife of 41 years filed for divorce. Collecting child support finalized that process. Afterward, her and Cameron moved out of Maryland after the birth of her twins, but, coincidentally, now at 33 she was found to have conceived, yet again. This time by her own son. The sexual relationship they formed never wavered, yet, grew exponentially.

As for me, I'm still going to therapy, trying to understand the role I might have played in it. The healing process had been slow, but the nightmares I had from hearing her moaning from her son ploughing her in her bedroom were lessening. I'm not looking for a relationship any time soon and any thoughts of ever marrying are permanently gone.

As I look out the window at the little kids playing and the families living their lives, I genuinely wish Rachel finds what she truly wants.

The End.