Karma is a Bitch Pt. 02

Chapter I

Michael sat all alone in the last row of the courtroom. He had been there since 9:00 that morning. At a couple minutes till five a bailiff walked over and told him, "I'm sorry sir, but it's about quitting time. You have to leave."

Michael didn't respond. He stood and began to shuffle his feet towards the door. It's hard to move much faster when your life has ended. Once outside the courthouse he was engulfed by the surging crowd on the sidewalk. The sky was dark with storm clouds. The humidity was off the charts and the air stank. He never felt so alone in his life. Then the rain came.

Two weeks earlier Michael was happily married. He had not the slightest inkling that Merilee, his wife of four years, was having an affair with Allen Jacmann, the new president and CEO of the company for whom she worked. Jacmann had spotted Merilee his first day there. He always had an eye for long legged blondes with larger than average breasts and she fit the profile in spades. But the real deal clincher was Merilee looked like an angel. She had an ethereal beauty that caught his eye and burned into his mind. He knew he had to possess her.

Jacmann was a very patient predator, one who enjoyed grooming his prey almost as much as he did seducing them.

From her off the rack discount store clothing he knew she would be impressed by his money

He went out of his way to walk by Merilee's desk, always with a friendly word and a compliment on how nice she looked. The other women noticed and began to tease her. "Don't be silly. I'm a married woman."

It was almost a full month before he engineered an accidental meeting in the break room. Merilee was the only one in there yet he walked right up to her and asked, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" When she said her break was almost over and had to get back to work he laughed. "Tell your supervisor you're interviewing for your new job." They spent the rest of the afternoon discussing her future with Wyndland Ltd. This was followed by an invitation to continue their conversation after work. "I know a private place where we can talk without interruption."

The cocktail lounge at the Executive Club looked like they stepped back into the 1950's. Old money-class. Think captains of industry smoking cigars and swilling scotch in snifters. It was dark enough to look mysterious yet light enough to display the well oiled paneled walls and brass accents. Autographed black and white glossies of long dead celebrities covered the walls. Jacmann chose a corner booth. The seats were leather.

The staff also knew how to respect privacy. The couple were ignored until Jacmann made a subtle hand signal. The waitress seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "Good evening Mr. Jacmann."

"Good evening Bonnie. I'll have the usual and the lady will have an Absolute vodka gimlet with two lime twists."

Merilee was amazed he knew her favorite drink . He smiled and said, "I can read your mind."

Jacmann was a total gentleman as he used the information which his private detective had gathered. Marilee was astonished at how much they had in common.

For the next hour and a half he regaled her with stories of his world travels; of sailing the Mediterranean on a private yacht to mountain climbing in Tibet. But he was very careful to work in plenty of coincidences that his intel had gleaned. It turned out they were both Rolling Stones fans only Jacmann could add he had partied with Mick Jagger in London. The innocent blonde was mesmerized by his stories.

Merilee was disappointed when her date looked at his Rolex and announced, "You're such a pleasure to talk to. I wish I could stay forever but I have a social engagement I must attend this evening." Merilee was jealous of whoever was taking him away. "I promise we'll do this again. Soon." He kissed her on the forehead. Her panties were soaked. Jacmann had won her mind. She would have had sex with him on top of the bar if he wanted to.

That weekend Merilee fantasized about Allen-he said she could call him Allen whenever they weren't at work-as she had sex with her husband. Mikey was the only man she ever had sex with and wondered what he would be like.

On Monday Merilee was given a special project which culled her from the herd. She spent the next four weeks at Jacmann's beck and call, sending out press releases to all corners of the world announcing their latest game changing innovation. Merilee would come home bubbling over with genuine excitement from having talked with Paris and Tokyo.

She forgot to mention that whenever Jacmann was in town she was his regular lunch companion.

Soon the former file clerk was promoted to Jacmann's personal assistant. A generous pay raise came with the title. Within a week she had betrayed her solemn marriage vow to forsake all others. Three times that first day alone. She felt a little whorish when he gave her five crisp one hundred dollars bills and said, "Go buy yourself some nice clothes." She rationalized accepting the money as a perk of her new job. After all Jacmann had emphasized how important it was for her to dress properly to reflect her new position.

Michael didn't notice the designer labels on the blouses and skirt suits she bought. No, he was a simple man and was happy to see his wife was happy with her promotion and new clothes. Her smile swelled in his heart and he told her, "I'm so proud of you." She said, "I'm so glad."

Unfortunately, he was not the reason for her smile.

She earned another $500 the following week and splurged on lingerie, including her first garter belt and stockings. Merilee hid the bags in the back of her closet.

That Friday Merilee decided to show off for her paramour. She brought her outfit to work so as not to arouse any suspicion from her husband. Just before lunch she changed in the executive washroom into her sexiest outfit.

The cocktail lounge was much busier on their second visit but they were seated in the same corner booth. After their drinks were delivered Merilee screwed up her courage and took off her blazer revealing her breasts obscenely displayed on a shelf bra. The sheer blouse did nothing to hide her erect nipples.

Jacmann was furious. "This is my club! How dare you embarrass me in front of my friends.!" He raised his hand as though he was going to knock her into tomorrow.

Merilee cowered in feat. Her voice trembled as she said, "I thought you would..."

"I would what? Be happy you're acting like a $50 whore!"

"But..."

Merilee slipped the blazer back on and buttoned it up.

"Don't ever do that again." The tone of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. .

"I'm sorry. I promise I'll never do anything like that again." Like most powerful men who collect rare and valuable things, Jacmann enjoyed showing off his treasures. But some items in the collection were not for public viewing.

Things went smoothly for the next few months. The young lovers would meet for their assignation then, after a cocktail, retire to one of the private rooms in the back. But trouble was brewing. Jacmann was a very jealous man and he hated sharing his trophy with another man. The thought of a factory worker having sex with his woman gnawed at him.

Michael, poor Michael,had no clue Jacmann had convinced himself he had fallen in love with his wife. He also had no idea her paramour didn't like sharing his mistress with her husband and coerced her into getting a divorce with promises of a romantic wedding and a fairy tale life ever after.

Michael only became aware when he came home from work and Merilee said, "Sit down, we need to talk." After she sliced his chest open, ripped his heart out, and stomped on it a curious looking man in a bad suit accosted him. He forced an envelope into his hands. "You've been served." Michael collapsed to the floor. When he awoke she was gone. So too were her clothes and everything she owned. He tore the envelope open...Petition for Dissolution of Marriage screamed out at him. He passed out again.

On the appointed day Michael showed up with his attorney from legal aid, a very nice young man who was as timid as a church mouse.

Merilee wasn't in court. Instead Jacmann sent three human sharks dressed in suits that cost more than Michael made in a month. He never got to say a single word. The divorce was granted in less than two minutes.

Unlike seemingly every other Literotica sad sack who was on the receiving end of a "we've got to talk" Michael didn't go to a bar and meet a Miss America runner up who fell in love at first sight. He wasn't a brilliant inventor mere days away from getting a patent on a world changing invention. Nor did he have a here-to-for unrecognized grasp of the stock market which allowed him to parlay $50 into $5 million. What he did have was a cold twelve pack of Budweiser which he proceeded to suck down while parked in the grocery store's parking lot. Even with a belly full of beer he couldn't bring himself to go back home and used some bushes as a bathroom.

When he awoke the next day he could still feel so he trudged back inside and bought another.

On Monday morning he showed up at work, wearing the same clothes, and three days of stubble on his chin. His supervisor called him over to make sure the machinist would be able to make quota. By the time the whistle blew he had exceeded it by almost 15%. Mindless repetition dulled the pain in his heart.

That evening he went home for a shower and a change of clothes. Plus he used to have a well stocked bar. A few bottles escaped the purge. He poured a glass of Jack Daniels, neat, and began to sort through his mail. Most made a quick trip to the waste basket. He put the bills on the side to pay later. The last thing he did before he got drunk was cancel all of his credit cards.

The next morning he stopped in the rental office to say he had to break his lease. He explained what happened and said he no longer needed a two bedroom penthouse. "That was my wife's...make that my ex-wife's dream." The agent listened to his story then made him an offer. "I'll have no problem renting your unit for more than you pay. But I've got something you might be interested in." He led Michael down into the bowels of the building, down to the windowless crypt which had been the janitor's apartment until the building converted to natural gas. It was filthy and dark. Michael thought it perfect as it reflected his life. A deal was struck.

Next Michael sold his pride and joy, a 1988 Monte Carlo SS. He would walk or take a bus to work. It was only five miles.

He began to devolve into a feral creature who wandered the streets at night. He stopped shaving and his beard was wild and unkempt. It was August and the factory was not air conditioned. He was grimy after his shift and smelled like sweat mixed with machine oil.

Late one night he was hassled by a policeman. He produced his union card and a paycheck stub to prove he was employed. The next night the officer followed him home. The doorman vouched for Michael saying, "He's lived in this building for over four years. Quiet guy. Never a problem."

After that the beat cop always said "Good evening Mr. Yancy". Michael silently nodded his acknowledgement.

Alcohol was his only reliable companion. But he was a functioning drunk and never missed a shift at the factory.

When he got tired of walking he would pick up a case of cold beer at the convenience store across from his building. He would set his alarm clock then plop down in his black leather recliner. It was one of the few things she left behind -Merilee never did like the chair because it conflicted with her decorating scheme. He would sit in the dark and pound them down, one after another, and contemplate raining vengeance down on Jacmann until he passed out.

Mornings were the hardest. For a few seconds before his mind began thinking Michael forgot about the divorce. Then the pain would return, like a sledge hammer blow on an anvil.

The few friends he had were from before their marriage. They huddled together and discussed how they could avenge their friend. One thought he could lay his hands on an untraceable pistol and they discussed executing Jacmann. Their plans, however, had to be put on hold when they learned Merilee and her new husband had left for a three week honeymoon in Europe.

Their wedding was lavish enough to merit a mention on the evening's news. The bride arrived at the cathedral in a white carriage pulled by four white horses. Twelve brass horns announced her arrival. It had cost a small fortune to have her first marriage annulled so they could get married by the Bishop. Being a practical man Jacmann salted the guest list with clients, politicians, and others with whom he sought favor. Even the governor made an appearance.

By all accounts it was the social event of the year.

The next morning one of Michael's friends stopped by with a newspaper. He didn't say a word when he saw the picture.

"Mike, we've got it all figured out. We'll hit him when he's coming from that private club. We'll make it look like a robbery gone wrong." The plan sounded great over a few beers but when sober Michael knew they couldn't murder anyone. All he could muster was ,"No."

He gradually cut off all contact with people other than the bare minimum to survive

One chilly night, in a heavy rain, Michael almost ran into a man who offered him his choice of a hot bowl of soup or an umbrella to stay dry. Michael actually laughed as he pictured using a soup bowl to stay dry. Jim Bower, the shelter manager, ushered him into a large basement room. Row after row of tables were packed elbow to elbow with denizens of the dark taking shelter from the storm.

He felt a little guilty because he had plenty of money in wallet to buy a meal. He simply chose not to and was eating only enough to stay alive. His body had grown gaunt. This was the first hot food he had eaten since in over a week. It felt good.

He was glad to see his table companions were more interested in eating than conversation. He was also relieved there was no preaching.

As Michael was leaving he sought out the man who had invited him inside. He walked up and down the aisles looking for him. Along the walls were families, well mothers with children actually. Not a father was in sight. His own father walked out when he was five and he knew how the children felt.

He spotted Jim in the back washing a huge pot. "Thank you for the soup." He handed him $20. "I hope this covers it."

"Thank you brother. Your generosity is greatly appreciated. Please, feel free to stop in any time."

He went home and did something different. He didn't drink a beer. Not a one. He was too busy thinking about the children he had seen, huddled with their mothers in a strange place. The terror in their faces haunted him.

It was almost two weeks before he worked up the nerve to stop back at the shelter for a meal. He was greeted by an elderly woman. "Welcome friend. I'm sorry but we're a little backed up. A couple of our regular volunteers called in sick so we're shorthanded."

Michael looked around the room. There was a long line waiting for food. He spotted Jim Bower busing tables and walked over, "Excuse me, I don't know how to do anything but I'll help any way I can."

"Thank you brother. You're a God send. Put this apron on and follow me." He spent the next four hours ladling out soup, washing dishes, and making coffee...strong coffee.

They ran out of food around nine. By then the conversion into sleeping quarters was well under way. Michael carried load after load of army surplus cots and blankets out of the storage room. He made sure the mothers and kids had everything they needed and didn't leave until everyone was secure for the night. When he got home he collapsed into his recliner and fell asleep without thinking. He dreamt happy dreams for the first time since his divorce.

Chapter II

Across town Mr. & Mrs. Allen Jacmann were attending a $1,000 a plate fundraiser for a local politician. It was election time and this was their fifth black tie dinner in the last two weeks. Merilee's biggest complaint was her new $350 high heels were uncomfortable. Allen had picked them out for her. In fact, he had picked out her entire outfit including the designer dress and the lingerie under it. She was his Barbie doll.

While her husband pressed the flesh she, the dutiful wife, followed one step behind trying not to look bored to tears. The blisters growing on her feet were her only distraction. She couldn't wait for the meal-typical banquet hall fare at best-so she could slip off her shoes. But that would be at least another thirty minutes.

Allen toasted the senator with a glass of Champaign then left his trophy wife to work the room. A smart businessman likes to make friends with the elected officials who regulate his industry.

She made her way over to a group of abandoned trophy wives. All were bedecked in jewelry with professionally applied makeup and perfectly coiffured hair. Merilee recognized them from a dozen other such events but couldn't remember a single name.

Evidently they didn't remember hers either as no one greeted her by name; instead they exchanged air kisses and generic hellos. In a blink of an eye the gossip was again flowing fast and cutting for anyone whose back was turned. A lot of speculation centered on who was having an affair. And it went on and on.

Merilee looked at the women. There was not a single one she would consider a friend. It bothered her that she had lost all of her lifelong friends and replaced them with a pack of jackals who tore each other to pieces they moment they turned their backs. Merilee feigned interest as she slammed down another dirty martini. Better to be bored than to be the topic, she thought.

And being part of the pack discouraged the lotharios who were on the prowl for unaccompanied wives who might have had a bit too much to drink. She had been tempted a couple of times but could never find a man worth risking everything for a meaningless fuck. Damn that pre-nup.

She got morose when she drank on an empty stomach. It gnawed at her that she was alone. After the divorce most of her family wouldn't even talk to her. She could still hear them asking, How could you do that to Michael? He loved you." She grabbed another drink off the waiter's tray as he walked by.

Mercifully, dinner was announced. The meal was followed by a stump speech extolling the brilliance and virtues of whatever candidate was being honored. It didn't matter who they were or what office they held, bull shit is bullshit regardless of who the farmer is.

The Jacmanns were inevitably the last to leave, hanging at the bar until last call was announced. On a good night they drove home in silence. If, however, she had done something to anger or embarrass her husband there would be hell to pay. And Jacmann didn't wait to get home to dish out punishment.

Merilee had found out too late that her husband was a sadistic bastard who got off on slapping her around if she didn't do exactly what he wanted, how he wanted.

More than once she had to hide a black eye with an thick application of smoky eye makeup and a pair of designer sunglasses. Bruised ribs were easier to hide. So were the welts on her ass from his belt.

Merilee had looked forward to living with a wealthy man; unfortunately when he stopped faking it she learned they actually had nothing in common. During the seduction her husband had been willing to do anything she wanted. She soon found out that his business was a very demanding mistress.

This wasn't quite the fairy tale marriage she was promised. No, all of that changed when she said "I do" and became a possession.

Chapter III

Soon Michael was volunteering at the shelter five nights a week. It had been one heck of a night. The temperature dropped below freezing for the first time that year and it seemed everyone wanted a hot meal and a cot to sleep on. He was cleaning up when he noticed a woman huddled in the corner. Actually it was the facial bandages which caught his attention.